


Can I Keep You

by scottmcniceass



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 06:58:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottmcniceass/pseuds/scottmcniceass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam is always trying to do what's best for himself and his daughter, but raising a kid on his own at twenty-two, on top of juggling school work and a full-time job, isn't easy. Zayn just wants a chance to show Liam that he's not going to walk out on them. And Liam's daughter, Emma? She just wants to keep Zayn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can I Keep You

  
The thing about being best friends with Louis Tomlinson is that you never get used to him, no matter how much time you spend in his presence. Of course, you learn not to jump when he unexpectedly shouts instead of keeping his voice to a normal level, or when he jumps you from behind for impromptu piggyback rides. But still, he is a lot to take in even on his best days.

When Louis barges into Liam’s apartment, Liam sees first the flash of bright red and then the contrasting blue, and there’s that moment of, ‘ _Jesus Christ what the fuck is happening?_ ’ before he realizes it’s just Louis and calms down.

“That was locked,” Liam tells him, putting a hand on his hip.

“I have a _key_ ,” Louis says right back. “And news. I have news.”

Liam knows better than to add fuel to the fire that is Louis and, instead of begging to know what news he has, or picking up on Louis’ energy and jumping up and down, he arches his eyebrows and bends down to pick up the stuffed animal off the ground.

“You’re not even going to _ask_?” Louis demands. Liam snorts and puts the stuffed toy in the box with the other toys. “Fine, I’ll spill, but only because you hounded me. I,” he pauses for dramatic affect, “have a date. Like, an actual date. As in, there will be more than just fumbled blowjobs in the backseat of his car. We’re having _dinner_.”

Liam blinks because, well, that is kind of surprising. Liam and Louis both have very strict ‘no dating ever’ rules, for very different reasons. Liam doesn’t date because it’s kind of hard to explain over coffee that the first girl you’d ever had sex with got pregnant and that she’d left the baby for you to take care of, the baby that was now a four year old girl. Louis didn’t date because Louis was a very firm believer that, while love might possibly exist, he’s much happier shagging every attractive person he meets (male or female; when it comes to Louis there is no real gender preference) than confining himself to one single person.

_“It’d be a crime, really, Liam. I’m doing the world a public service.”_

“Who with?” Liam asks, sinking down onto his couch. He’s got another two hours before he has to pick Emma up from daycare, and today he’s not working after his classes, so he’s actually free. Liam doesn’t exactly know what to do with free time anymore, though.

“You know who with,” Louis says hotly, heading towards the kitchen.

Liam’s apartment isn’t huge, but it’s cheap. Really, it’s mostly one large room -- living room, dinning room and kitchen all in the same open space-- with three doors against the left wall, two of them leading to bedrooms, one leading to the small bathroom with the constantly dripping sink.

Liam does, in fact, have a guess at who Louis’ got a date with, he just can’t believe it, because, “You hate that guy.”

“That I do,” Louis agrees while pouring himself coffee. “I detest him with a burning fire that only the sun could really comprehend. But,” Louis sighs and adds cream to his drink, “he’s got these hands, Liam. Honestly, it’s not fair. I want to simultaneously punch him in the face and fuck myself on those fingers.”

“Louis,” Liam hisses, because it’s a habit of his to scold Louis’ foul language, even when Emma’s not around. “Christ. Maybe it’s good that you get him out of your system then.”

Because Liam was a bit tired of hearing how infuriating Harry Styles is, and how much of a pretentious prick he is, and how stupid his taste in music is, and how his hair smells like stupid strawberries (“ _Strawberries_ , Liam. I just don’t understand.”).

Louis had started working at Juice Town in the mall six months ago, and in that time Harry Styles, who worked at Remix Cds (which was situated just across the way), had managed to crawl his way under Louis’ skin in a way that no one Liam had met before had ever been able to do.

“Exactly,” Louis says, sliding onto the couch next to Liam.

A bit of coffee sloshes over the top of his cup and Liam watches helplessly as it lands on his carpet. There was a time, when he’d first moved in, when he might have been annoyed at that. Now, the little brown stain is really nothing compared to the red stain of juice by the edge of the coffee table, or the brown smear of chocolate that some how _refused_ to come out, over by the television.

“So what are you two going to do?” Liam asks, stealing Louis’ cup to take a sip. It’s too bitter -- he likes his with hordes of sugar, Louis likes it with none at all-- and he grimaces at the taste.

“That’s why I’m here, actually,” Louis said slowly. He looks up at Liam over the brim of his cup with wide, begging eyes. “I need you to come with.”

Weird, for Louis, is kind of the norm; still, this is a bit out there. “I’m not coming on your date with you.”

“But--,” Louis sighs loudly. “Please, Liam. You won’t be a third wheel. Harry has this friend -- this ridiculously attractive friend, may I add-- who I’ve convinced him to bring as well. That way, if I decide that I literally cannot stop myself from strangling him before we head back to mine, you can save the day.”

“Emma--,”

“I’ll beg Niall to baby-sit.”

Liam groans. Niall is Liam’s neighbour. He’s a great guy, really. They’ve got a sort of understand between the two of them; Niall, who is very into having parties, never has music up loudly past eight during the weekdays, and Liam cooks him breakfast on the weekends. Occasionally, Niall baby-sits Emma, who adores Niall, really, because she finds his accent hilarious and enjoys tugging on his hair. And Liam has no doubt that Niall would be all for Liam going out, would volunteer to baby-sit even before Louis asked him.

“So it’s settled then,” Louis says happily, because they both know Liam doesn’t have another excuse. “Be ready for six on Thursday.”

“Thursday,” Liam repeats, giving Louis an incredulous look. “Who goes out on their first date on a Thursday?”

Louis stands up, placing his cup, half finished, on the coffee table. “The kind of person who plans to get exceptionally wasted the next night if their date ends up being completely shit. I’ve got to run, meeting El at Panda in--,” he looks down at his phone, “fifteen minutes ago, apparently. Shit. Love you, Li.”

And then he was out the door, leaving Liam, not for the first time, feeling as if he’d just been picked up and then dropped by a tornado.

 

\--

 

“It’s _fine_ ,” Niall assures him for the tenth time. “Seriously, Li, you need to get laid. You’re tightly wound, mate.”

Liam’s eyes move to Emma, who was sitting in front of the telly, checking to make sure she hadn’t picked up on Niall’s words. “I don’t,” Liam tells him, rolling his eyes. “Unlike you and Louis, I honestly don’t need sex to function.”

“Everyone needs sex to function,” Niall protests. “But really, just go have fun. I’ve got her.”

“ _Neil_ ,” Emma calls, looking over at them. No matter how many times any of them corrected her, the child refused to believe that Niall’s name was not, in fact, Neil.

“What’d you got there, girly?” Niall asks, brushing Liam off. Emma might love Niall, but Liam had no doubt in his mind that Niall loved her just as much. “Woah, who got you that?” Niall questions when Emma lifts her wrist to show off the bracelet dangling from her arm.

“Louis,” Liam said, though he really didn’t need to. Liam couldn’t afford to spend money on something so extravagant and pointless; Louis’ whole life purpose was to spend money on extravagantly pointless things.

“Don’t you have a date?” Niall asks, eyes narrowing.

“No,” Liam hisses right back. “Louis has a date. I’m babysitting, just like you.”

Niall snorts. “We’ll be fine, Liam, _go_.”

Liam gives them both one more look, moves forward to scoop Emma up in his arms and plant a kiss on top of her bright red curls, and then nods once more at Niall before heading out the door. He feels this weight settle in his stomach as he locks it behind himself, though.

The last time Liam had been on a date had been over a year ago. It had been his first date since they’d had Emma, and he was just starting University. John had been all bright smiles and soft touches, until Liam blurted that he had a daughter, and then John had been all awkward smiles and fumbled apologies and then finally he’d said goodbye and they’d never went out again.

Liam figures that some people have good luck in life, and some have shit. Liam, definitely, has the shittiest luck. How many other people got the first girl they’d slept with pregnant? And how many other people had only realized after having sex with said girl that they were actually gay? And how many other people after that had woken up in a brand new apartment when they were eighteen years old to the sound of a baby crying, only to find a note tucked under a cup on the coffee table explaining that the child’s mother just didn’t have it in her to raise a kid?

Not many, Liam figures.

When he gets downstairs he finds Louis’ car idling out front. His windows are all the way up but that doesn’t do much to stop the loud music thumping through his speakers from reaching Liam’s ears. Liam doesn’t even bother knocking on the window or anything to warn Louis before he gets in the car, he just pulls open the door and slides into the passenger seat.

“Liam,” Louis instantly groans, eyes raking over Liam’s body. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

“Um,” Liam looks down at the plain white button-up and jeans he’s wearing. “Clothes?”

Louis sighs. “I look like a pack of fucking crayons, and you look like a black and white photograph. Christ. Okay, switch me shirts.”

Liam looks at Louis’ bright red shirt with apprehension. “I’m fine.”

“ _Liam_ ,” Louis says again, already tugging his shirt over his head. He hands it to Liam and waits impatiently, hand extended. Liam has no choice but to undo the buttons on his shirt and pull on Louis’, even though it’s a bit tight around the shoulders, and even though Louis’ arms are way too short for his button-up. “That’s better,” Louis decides, giving him another once over. “Now, his name is Zayn, he and Harry share an apartment, and no one is expecting anything to happen between the two of you. You’re just there to make sure Harry and I don’t kill each other or have sex in the middle of the restaurant.”

Liam gives Louis a wary look. “Do I really have to worry about the second one? Because last time your pants came off in public you nearly got arrested.”

“I was drunk,” Louis says defensively, but he doesn’t really look embarrassed. He pulls away from Liam’s building without looking behind him, causing the car that nearly hits them to honk their horn loudly. “But anyways, I’m still pretty sure this date has a better chance of ending in bloodshed than it does in sexing.”

“Then why are you even bothering?” Liam asks.

Louis shrugs, staring resolutely out the window. “I guess I just realized that I’m kind of alone, you know? You might not date, but you’ve got Em. Niall’s got that on-off thing with El, and I’ve got- I’ve got me. That’s it.”

“You’ve got me,” Liam says, giving Louis a concerned look. It wasn’t often that Louis’ softer side came out, unless it was when Liam was upset. Louis wasn’t some heartless person incapable of crying or showing emotion; he just wasn’t capable of crying over his own problems, or his own emotions.

“Not the same, Li,” Louis tells him.

“Why not?” Liam questions.

“Because,” Louis sighs, “whether I have you or not, I still go home to an empty apartment every night.”

Liam decides not to push after that because Louis has a habit of admitting important things and then shutting down completely. Liam doesn’t want him to do that, so he lets Louis’ words end the conversation.

Louis turns the music back up and they drive to the restaurant singing along to Bruno Mars. When they get out of the car, Louis hesitates. “This does look okay, right?”

Liam nods. “What about me? I probably look ridiculous in your shirt.”

“Not at all,” Louis tells him, plucking at the sleeve of Liam’s -  _Louis’_ \- shirt. “Not many mothers manage to get their figures back as quickly as you did after childbirth.”

Liam rolls his eyes and bumps his shoulder roughly into Louis’ as they walk into the restaurant.

The restaurant itself is the kind of place Liam would take Emma, if they went out. It’s not too expensive, and instead of table cloths, all the booths are covered with brown paper that you’re allowed to colour on while you sit.

“There they are,” Louis says, jerking his head to the left. Liam watches as Louis’ face goes from open and friendly to reserved and haughty and just a bit stuck up. It’s something Liam’s seen more than enough times in his life. He likes to refer to it as Louis’ ‘Venus Flytrap look’, because - no matter how prickly it is- people are never able to resist flying close enough for Louis’ to trap them.

Liam’s met Harry twice, exactly. Once, while visiting Louis at work, Harry had come over to get a drink for himself, and Louis had nearly dumped his drink on Harry’s head when Harry commented on how well Louis’ bum looked in his uniform. The other time was when Liam went to buy a CD for himself at the place Harry works.

He recognizes the curly hair and the green eyes, but he’s never seen the boy beside Harry before. He would definitely remember the sharp eyes and the styled hair and the leather jacket, he’s sure.

“Lou!” Harry calls, waving them over with a bright smile on his face. Liam does not miss the way Louis tenses at the nickname. “Over here.”

“This will all be fine,” Louis says under his breath, and Liam can’t tell if he’s saying it to Liam or himself.

Louis easily slides into the seat across from Harry, and Liam slips in next to him, across from Zayn, who looks up at them with a bored expression on his face before returning his gaze down to the table, where he’s already drawn an impressive amount of doodles with the pencil crayons provided.

“Nice to meet you, Liam,” Harry says, extending his hand. Liam takes it and shakes it once. “This is Zayn, by the way.”

“Hey,” Zayn says quietly.

“Do they serve alcohol here?” Louis asks suddenly.

“Lou--,” Liam warns, but Harry just chuckles and says, “Yeah, pretty sure they do.”

The five minute wait for he waiter to come and ask them what they want to drink is awkward. Zayn looks up from the table exactly three times - Liam counted, because he didn’t have anything else to do- and Harry acts as if Louis was the only person on the entire planet.

Harry and Louis both order themselves some citrus flavoured alcoholic drink, while Liam stuck with a coke, since he’d be driving Louis home, apparently, and Zayn got himself a coffee.

“So, Liam,” Harry says when the waiter disappears. “You go to school with Louis, right?”

Liam opens his mouth to answer but Louis does it for him. “We have since we were nine.”

“Cool,” Harry says easily. “What’re you studying? I know Lou’s taking musical theatre, but he hasn’t mentioned what you’re studying. Same as Lou?”

“No, actually,” Liam says, shifting in his seat. “I’m getting a degree in fire science.”

“Fire science,” Harry repeats with a frown.

“Means he wants to be a firefighter. It’ll help get him a better paying job if he makes it onto the force,” Zayn says without looking up.

Liam blinks at him. Most people don’t know that. _He_ hadn’t known that until the last year of college, when their school counsellor suggested he take the course.

“That’s right,” Liam says, confusion in his voice.

Zayn looks up at him with a slight smirk on his face. “Course it is.”

“What about you?” Liam asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not in school,” Zayn answers coolly, before returning all of his attention to his drawings. Harry gives Zayn a peculiar look and Liam knows that there’s something there that they’re not telling him, but he lets it go because he doesn’t really know either of these guys enough for it to be his business.

By the time they pay for the check, Liam decides that he likes Harry, and that he doesn’t really care much for Zayn. Zayn pocketed their waiter’s number before they left-- another smirk on his face-- after he spent most of the evening ignoring everyone at the table, including Harry. Harry, on the other hand, made a point to talk to Louis and Liam just as often, keeping up most of the conversation. Louis spent half the evening looking about ready to throw something at Harry and the other half like he was considering giving Harry a hand job under the table, which, Liam figured, pretty much summed up Louis’ relationship with Harry completely.

“So,” Harry starts as the four of them step outside. “You guys want to meet up somewhere else? Get a few drinks?”

“Can’t,” Zayn says while pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. Liam watches as he pulls out a lighter, too, and stares in fascination at the flame of it while Zayn lights the cigarette. Liam is very, very against smoking, but there’s always been something a bit enticing about fire, to him. It was part of the reason he’d wanted to be fireman.

“I can’t either,” Liam adds after a beat, realizing he hadn’t answered Harry. “I’ve got to get home.”

“Liam is very responsible,” Louis tells Harry confidentially. Thankfully, he’d only had one drink the whole date and Liam figured he’d be fine enough to drive them home. “I’ve got to drop him off at home but we could meet up at my place afterwards? I’ve got an extensive collection of alcohol, and I make a mean a Sex on the Beach.”

Harry looks taken back by that, but he quickly nods his head. “Yeah, definitely. Zayn?”

“Just drop me off at home,” Zayn tells him. “I’ve got plans.”

“You’ve always got plans,” Harry mutters. He turns back to Louis. “Text me your address?”

Louis nods and they head in separate directions. The moment they get into the car, Louis grabs Liam’s thigh with a tight, vice-like grip. “Do I fuck him?” Louis asks, eyes wide.

Liam looks at him, alarmed. “Um, do you want to?”

“Yes,” Louis admits. “But if I do, things are going to be extremely awkward at work. And he’ll probably want a second date or something, and I rarely do _first_ dates, let alone second dates, and I’ll probably screw this whole thing up, and-,”

“Calm,” Liam orders, raising his hands to get Louis to stop. “You’ll be fine.”

“Fine,” Louis repeats, nodding his head. “You’re right. Who am I kidding? I’m Louis Tomlinson, there’s not a thing I can’t do.”

Liam shakes his head in fond amusement but doesn’t deny that because, well, it’s kind of true. “So you had a good date, then?”

“Yes.” This time Louis’ admission is said with a bit of resentment. “What about you?”

Liam shrugs. “Not horrible. I like Harry.” Louis glares at him. “Zayn seems… okay.”

“Are you kidding?” Louis gives him an incredulous look. “That man has got to be the third most fuckable male on the planet.”

“Third?”

“After me, obviously,” Louis smirks. “And Harry. Like I said the other day, it’s the hands, okay, I can’t be held responsible for my reaction to them.”

Liam hadn’t noticed anything special about Harry’s hands; then again, he hadn’t really paid much attention to them. Not as much as Louis, apparently.

“Let’s get you home,” Louis says after a moment. “And get me laid.”

 

\--

 

When Liam walks into his apartment he finds Niall sprawled out on the couch, watching some reality show. He sits up quickly when he hears the door close.

“How was it?” Niall asks.

Liam shrugs. “It wasn’t my date.”

Niall frowns. “So you and the other guy didn’t--,”

“He left with our waiter’s number, so… no, we didn’t.”

“That sucks,” Niall says, tone laced with sympathy. “You know, I have a few friends that are single. I could set you up.”

Liam waves him off. “I’m honestly fine. I’ve got everything I need.” Niall nods, accepting that. “Speaking of which, how was she?”

Niall stands up and rolls his eyes. “Great, and you know it.”

Liam grins. “Yeah,” he admits. He did. His life might not have turned out the way he would have planned, and a lot of things might be shit, but his daughter was not one of them.

“See you later,” Niall calls as he leaves.

 

\--

 

Liam gets far more details about Louis’ night with Harry than he cares to. “Best fuck of my life,” Louis gushed the day after. “Why couldn’t I have just stayed hating him? I thought screwing him would resolve the unresolved sexual tension, but it didn’t. I hate everything.”

Liam tried to be sympathetic, at the time, but a week - and another hook-up between Harry and Louis- later, Liam just doesn’t have it in him.

“I can’t talk,” Liam says into the phone as he ducks into the backroom. His boss is generally lenient with Liam’s phone calls, since he knows about Liam’s daughter and how important it is for him to answer every call. Still, Liam can’t just slack off work to discuss Louis’ thriving sex life.

“Fine,” Louis sighs. “But Harry told me to tell you that Zayn is into you.”

Liam stares at a can of beans on the shelf in front of him with a shocked look on his face. “What?”

“Mhm,” Louis says, and Liam can hear the happiness in his voice. “Apparently Zayn’s mating ritual involves hitting on everyone _but_ the person of his affection within a ten mile radius, and then ignoring said person the whole night. Don’t ask, I have no idea. Seems counterproductive, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Liam agrees, because he never, in a million years, would have assumed that Zayn even remembered what Liam’s name was. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Louis assures him. “Want me to set up another double date? And maybe this time you can make an effort to seem available and interested?”

“No,” Liam says quickly, shaking his head despite the fact that he knows Lou can’t see him. “I’m okay.”

“What?” Louis’ voice is loud in his ear. “Why the hell not?”

“Because I’m not interested.”

It’s not exactly true. Zayn was gorgeous, Liam wasn’t blind. He just wasn’t Liam’s type, really. Liam couldn’t afford to date guys like Zayn, ones who very clearly gave off a dangerous vibe, with their smirks and leather jackets and enticing eyes. Liam needed someone reliable and steady and relaxing, someone who could handle the fact that he had a kid. Zayn did not seem like that type of person, and Liam wasn’t willing to get involved in something that was definitely not going to work.

“You’re sure?” Louis questions.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Louis concedes. “But if you change your mind, at least shag him, yeah? Kind of a waste not to, in my opinion.”

Liam is about to go on his rant about why being attractive should not be the only contributing factor to sleeping with someone, when there was a knock on the door to the backroom.

“I’ve got to go,” Liam whispers into the phone. “Talk to you later.”

“You’re no fun,” Louis tells him. “But fine. Goodbye, Liam.”

 

\--

 

Liam is at Louis’ after school on Wednesday when he sees Zayn again. Not that he’d been spending a lot of time thinking about Zayn, and not that he’d been picturing men with dark eyes and smirks on their faces while he jerked himself off in the shower the other day, because he’d told himself he wasn’t going there.

Still, it’s more than a bit of a surprise to see him again.

Emma was still at daycare, and would be until Louis drove Liam to pick her up in two hours. He and Louis were playing xBox, busy shooting each other as often as possible, when someone knocks on the door. Louis is quick to jump up, not even caring that Liam manages to shoot his player in the head twice while he does so.

“Harry,” Louis says loudly. Liam looks up sharply just in time to see the boy in question come into the apartment, followed closely by Zayn.

The leather jacket is gone today and Liam’s eyes take in the colourful ink covering his arm. He’s got more than one tattoo on his forearms alone, and Liam doesn’t doubt that there are more underneath the black band t-shirt he’s wearing. Wanting to find them and trace them with his tongue isn’t exactly a normal reaction to that thought, he knows.

“Hi, Liam,” Harry says brightly, already making his way to where Liam was sitting on the couch. He picks up Louis’ controller without asking and starts playing. Liam dies but he’s too busy watching Zayn, who’s slowly following behind Louis, to notice or care.

Zayn nods his head in Liam’s direction and sits on Louis’ armchair. Louis fits himself between Harry and Liam and steals his controller back. “I was winning!” Harry protests, but Louis just plucks Liam’s controller right out of his hands and passes it to Harry before focusing on the game, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Can you get drinks?” Louis asks, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“I’ll take a can of Coke,” Harry adds.

Liam rolls his eyes but gets up anyways. He’s used to that kind of behaviour from Louis. Sometimes he felt like he had two kids to take care of.

He doesn’t get halfway to the kitchen before he realizes Zayn is following him. He doesn’t bother to acknowledge the other boy’s presence, though, until he’s pulled open Louis’ fridge.

“What do you want?” he asks, as Zayn leans against the counter, arms folded over his chest. He’s leaner than Liam but there’s something about his wiry frame that does it for Liam more than thick arms and wide shoulders would.

“Whatever you’re having,” Zayn answers.

Liam feels Zayn’s eyes on him as he bends down to grab cans out of the case. He hands one to Zayn, who takes it, and then holds the other three in his hands. Zayn doesn’t move to leave the kitchen but instead resumes leaning against he counter while he pops the tab on the can.

“You sure you want to go back in there?” Zayn asks, raising an eyebrow.

Liam frowns at him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Zayn hold a finger up to his lips, gesturing for him to be quiet and listen. Liam does so, not understanding what he’s supposed to be listening to, because he can’t hear anything.

It takes him a moment for that to sink in. He can’t hear _anything_. The sound of fake gunfire should have been echoing through the apartment still, but it wasn’t. And then he hears Louis’ gasp, and Liam’s cheeks turn red. “Oh.”

“It’s ridiculous,” Zayn comments, shaking his head. “They’re like animals.” He cocks his head to the side, eyes sliding slowly down Liam’s body before reaching his eyes once more. “Then again, if I had someone I was that attracted to I guess I’d want to fuck them senseless all the time, too.”

Liam’s mouth literally falls open a bit, and he doesn’t know how to respond to something like that. Sure, he’s used to those kind of comments from Louis, but they were never directed at _him_ , and he feels like this one was.

“You bringing those drinks or what?” Louis calls, making Liam jump.

“Coming,” Liam says quickly. He gives Zayn one last, quick look, which Zayn returns with a grin, before they both head back into the living room.

Harry and Louis have resumed playing, but Harry’s lips are red and Louis’ hair is dishevelled. No one comments.

Louis might be flighty and absent minded most of the time, but twenty minutes before Liam has to pick up Emma he turns off the game. “Sorry, boys,” Louis says apologetically. “Duty calls.”

“Yeah, it does. So why’d you turn it off?” Harry asks.

Louis snorts. “Because some of us have responsibilities, Harry. Come over later though, yeah?”

Harry nods. “Definitely.”

Neither he nor Zayn push for any more information on why they’re being kicked out, and Liam is grateful. He doesn’t want to have to go through the awkward explanation, not because he’s ashamed of his daughter in any way, but because he’s ashamed of himself and his own actions, and he hates seeing the judgemental looks people give him when they find out.

 

\--

 

“Louis!” Emma shouts when get inside the daycare to pick her up. She runs right at them, arms spread wide. Liam opened his arms to catch her, but she flings herself into Louis’ arms with much more force than should have been possible for someone that tiny.

“What about me?” Liam asks, faking a pout as Louis’ twirls her in his arms.

“Love you too, daddy,” Emma says before blowing him a kiss, something she’d picked up from Louis.

The woman who ran the daycare, Ella, waves goodbye to the three of them as they duck out the door. Liam knows that Ella has a thing for him, but he didn’t know how to tell her that he just wasn’t into girls. He’d hoped that brining Louis along all the time would make her think that they were a couple so that she’d get it without him actually saying it.

“Let’s do dinner,” Louis suggests as he carries Emma to the car. “I’ll pay.”

Louis always offers to pay because Louis is loaded. Louis’ aunt passed away when they were sixteen and left a large sum of money to her favourite nephew. That, on top of his job, meant that Louis was not hurting where money was concerned.

“I’ve got it,” Liam says anyways, because he’s not exactly good at taking handouts, even from Louis. The bracelet dangling Emma’s arm, and the plethora of toys back at the apartment didn’t count, because they were gifts for her only.

“Whatever,” Louis says. He shrugs before pulling open the backdoor and putting Emma in her car-seat. She claps her hands together happily while Louis does up her belt. “Does it matter where we go?”

Liam shakes his head and gets into the passenger seat. “Where ever you want.”

Louis slides into the drivers seat and pulls away from the building while Emma hums happily to herself.

“How was school?” Liam asks her, twisting around in his seat.

“I coloured,” she says happily. “I’ll colour Louis tomorrow.”

Louis grins at her in the rear-view mirror. “Use lots of colours,” he orders.

Emma scoffs, another thing she picked up from Louis. “Don’t be silly,” she says in that way that only kids can, sounding too old for their years but also impossibly young.

Louis brings them to a newer restaurant across town that Louis had been meaning to go to for a while. Liam wonders why he didn’t drag Harry there instead, but decides not to ask. He knows that Louis’ smart enough not to say certain things in front of Em, but Louis also has a bad track record when it comes to Harry and blurting out whatever comes to mind.

It isn’t until they’re sat in a both, Emma between Louis and the wall, at her request, that Louis slips up. He lets out a loud hiss of, “Shit!” and Emma covers her ears and gawks at him in surprise. “Sorry, love,” he says quickly, giving Liam a panicked but apologetic look.

When Louis’ eyes flicker across the restaurant, Liam follows his train of sight and realizes what Louis had freaked about.

He can see the outline of several tattoos underneath the thin cotton button-up he’s wearing, just as Liam suspected. One on his collarbone, one on his chest, another on his hip. It isn’t until after he’s categorized them and Zayn meets his eyes that Liam lets out a surprised sound.

“Want to play a game?” Louis asks Emma, eyes wide.

Emma blinks up at him. “No,” she says defiantly. “You swore. You can’t play.”

“I can play,” Louis denies. “You know how I pretend for school? We’re going to pretend right now, okay? If anyone asks, Liam’s your uncle.”

Emma blinks at him. “Uncle Liam?” she asks. “Who’s Liam?”

Louis gives Liam an astonished look and then turns back to Emma. “Liam’s your dad.”

Emma turns to Liam, shock in her wide brown eyes. “Oh!” she says, as if she honestly didn’t know this.

“So just pretend that I’m your dad, okay?”

“Okay, daddy Louis,” Emma says pleasantly.

Zayn is already heading towards them, but Liam has enough time to ask Louis, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Look,” Louis leans forward and speaks in a hushed whisper, “you said you weren’t interested, but I could see your heart eyes for him from miles away. Do you really want to spring this on him before you even have a chance?”

Liam did not have heart eyes. He also wasn’t going to lie about the most important thing in his life, cover up his daughter like he was ashamed of her. But then Zayn was at their table, a fake smile on his face.

“What can I-,” he froze, eyes on Emma. Zayn’s dark eyes dart from Liam to Louis and then from Louis to Emma, and Liam waits for the inevitable questions, the wondering of who’s she was because, really, Emma could belong to Louis or Liam, if you didn’t look too closely. She had red hair, for God’s sake.

“What can I get for you, princess?” Zayn asks, bending down to rest his arms on the table.

Emma smiles at him. “Can I see?” she asks, looking down at Zayn’s arm.

Liam watches in shocked fascination as Zayn extends his arm past Louis. Emma grabs his arm and turns it in her hands, awe struck as she takes in the multiple tattoos. “Cool, yeah?” Zayn asks, smiling at her.

“Can I have one?” she asks Liam before shaking her head and turning to Louis. “Dad?”

Zayn’s eyes widen just a bit, but he covers it quickly. “Not until you’re older, I don’t think your dad would approve.” He gives Louis a serious look after he speaks, and Liam can just guess all the things going through his mind. Has heard them out loud himself from other acquaintances when they first met his daughter.

Emma pouts and mutters, “I want chicken nuggets.”

Zayn writes that down and asks Liam and Louis what they want. Louis answers breezily, ordering himself a plate of fish and chips. Liam just blurts, “She’s mine.”

Zayn frowns at him, and Louis throws up his hands. “For fuck’s sakes,” he says, shaking his head at Liam.

“Louis!” Emma looks disappointed in him. “You’re grounded.”

Louis sinks back into his seat, arms crossed over his chest, a petulant look on his face, as if he were actually a child who had just gotten grounded.

“She’s-,” Zayn points his pen at Liam and then at Emma, “yours?”

Liam nods but Emma quickly says, “Uncle Louis is my daddy.”

Louis snorts back his laughter. “The jig is up, kid,” he tells her. “We’ve been found out. Your father is a terrible actor.”

“I’ll, um,” Zayn runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll get your drinks,” he says before darting off.

Liam watches him go, a pang in his chest for what he knows is yet another lost cause. Not that he’d really been _that_ interested in Zayn, it was just that maybe he’d convinced himself, just kind of, that things could possibly work out. This was Liam, though, and nothing in his life worked out.

Louis levels Liam with an annoyed look until Zayn returns, a tray with their drinks on it balanced in his hands. He doesn’t meet Liam’s eyes as he puts his Coke in front of him, but then he hands Em a pack of crayons and a piece of paper - a bright, open smile on his face -, and Liam doesn’t know what to do with that.

Most of the chatter as they wait for their food is supplied by Emma and Louis. Liam just doesn’t have it in him to join in on the enthusiastic conversation between the two children.

This time it’s Liam who doesn’t meet Zayn’s eyes as the other boy pushes a plate of food in front of him. He doesn’t want to see the judgement in those eyes, so he avoids it as best as he can.

When Zayn comes back to clear their plates, Emma reaches past Louis to hand him her piece of paper. Liam can see the doodle on it, figures that the deformed figure drawn there is Zayn, judging from the colours covering his arms. Zayn takes it with a smile.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Thank _you_ ,” Emma says right back. She turns to Louis. “Can we keep him?”

Louis literally covers his face to hold in his laughter at that. “Ask your dad,” he answers, much to Liam’s mortification.

Suddenly three pairs of eyes are looking at him expectantly. Liam looks up into Zayn’s only, wondering what the hell he was playing at.

“No,” Liam says finally. “We can’t.”

Louis rolls his eyes at that, Emma pouts, and Zayn’s expression cools over into something close to indifference. “I’ll get your check,” he says.

Louis leans out of the booth to watch him walk away. “I’d keep him,” Louis decides, eying Zayn’s ass. “Definitely.”

“Yeah, well…” Liam shoves his straw into his mouth so he doesn’t have to say anything else.

Zayn returns with two separate bills, one of which he gives to Louis, the other to Liam. Liam looks down at the price and pulls the money from his wallet before seeing the writing on the back.

_You don’t have to keep me_ , it read, and underneath that was a number. Liam looks up at Zayn, but Zayn is already walking away.

Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, Liam pulls his phone out under the table and puts Zayn’s number in his contacts.

 

\--

Having Zayn’s number is more of a burden than a gift. Liam doesn’t havethe courage to text him, or call him, but he also can’t stop opening up the contact once every couple hours, like clockwork, only to talk himself out of doing anything at the last minute.

Telling Louis wasn’t helpful, either. All he did was order Liam to just grow a pair and talk to him. Louis didn’t fully get it, though. He didn’t have the same worries and concerns that Liam did. He didn’t have to worry about another person, didn’t have to be responsible all the time. Liam did, and he couldn’t risk things by getting involved with someone.

What would happen if he _did_ decide to ask Zayn out? And Zayn actually said yes, and then they dated, and maybe Liam got really into him and formally introduced him to Emma, only to have things end right afterwards? How was he supposed to explain that to her?

_This_ was why he didn’t date. Either he held half of himself back at all times - because Emma was half of him, really, maybe even more- or he potentially hurt his daughter by bringing temporary people into her life. And if he was getting this stressed even considering dating, then obviously it wasn’t a good idea to.

So Louis continues to ‘date’ (Liam’s word, not Louis’, because Louis angrily denies any sort of relationship between himself and Harry outside of sex) Harry, and Liam continues to not date anyone. He even begs off both times that Louis invites him to hang out with Harry and Zayn.

He doesn’t see Zayn again for over a month, and once again, when he does, it’s unexpected. With Halloween coming up in just two weeks, and Em being old enough to demand a costume and to go trick-or-treating, Liam is stuck shopping for said costume. He was going to bring her along, but they’d went a few days ago and the only costume she’d wanted to try on was one that he would never, in a million years, allow his daughter to even _touch_. In fact, he was more than a little disturbed by the fact that they even made costumes like that in her size. What the hell was wrong with the world?

“Princess?” a voice asks from behind him. “Interesting choice. I’d take you more for a scantily clad policeman. Or maybe even a fireman, you know, given your career choices.”

Liam whirls, plastic bag in his hand. Zayn just grins at him. “What are you doing here?” Liam asks.

Zayn shrugs. “Got invited to a party. Need a costume.”

“Oh,” Liam nods. “Right.”

“You’re taking out your daughter, then?” Zayn asks, jerking his head in the direction of the costume in Liam’s hand. He says the word ‘daughter’ slower, like he’s testing the word on his tongue, or not quite sure if he should be using it. It makes Liam want to glare at him.

“Yeah, I am.”

Zayn nods. “How old is she?”

“Four,” Liam says in a clipped tone, returning the costume to the shelf. He looks at a witch costume next.

“She looks like you,” Zayn says, because that’s what people think they’re supposed to say.

“She’s got her mum’s hair,” Liam points out. “And Louis’ attitude.”

Zayn grins at that. “He a bad influence, then?”

“Only when it comes to her taste in jewellery,” Liam says. He finds himself smiling back, just a little. “A bit far out of my price range.”

Zayn grabs a random mask from the shelf behind them, turning it in his hand. “She around?” Zayn asks while looking down at the mask. “Her mum, I mean.”

Liam sighs and puts away the witch costume. “No. She’s not. Hasn’t been for years.”

When Zayn looks up at him, he looks genuinely sorry for even bringing it up. “That must be hard.”

Liam shrugs. “We’re fine.”

Zayn nods once again and puts the mask away. “See you ‘round, Liam,” he says, heading towards the other side of the store where the adult male costumes are. “And I’d get her the princess one, if I were you.”

Liam watches him go and then grabs the pink princess costume and heads for the cash register.

 

\--

 

“It itches,” Emma complains, tossing the tiara to the ground for the fifth time. Liam sighs and doesn’t try to get it on her again.

The pink princess costume is no longer pink. He has no idea who - _Niall_ \- convinced his daughter that Halloween costumes were supposed to be scary, but she was not pleased with the too pretty dress and tiara that Liam had gotten for her. Fortunately enough, Niall’s own costume needed a lot of fake blood and costume makeup, and he’d brought some over.

Liam still felt a bit uneasy, looking at her. He knew it was fake, but the giant, bloody gash on her forehead still bothered him. Every couple minutes he would see it and his heart would race before he’d remember that it was _just_ makeup.

“Here,” Niall says, pulling the ears off his head. He was a ‘freshly bitten werewolf’, apparently. Ripped, bloody shirt and all. He was impressively good with the costume makeup, though, and the fake bite on his side was convincing.

Emma grins widely when Niall puts the ears on her. “Woof,” she says. “I’m a dog princess.”

Niall just shrugs and Liam decides that, as long as she’s happy, he doesn’t mind that he’s going to be asked numerous times tonight what his daughter is supposed to be dressed up as.

“I’ve got to finish setting up,” Niall says apologetically. “If it gets too loud for her to sleep, just come over and let me know.”

“I will,” Liam says, though he knows that won’t happen. Emma usually refuses to sleep without her _Dora the Explorer_ movie on, and she probably won’t be able to hear the pounding music over it.

“G’bye Neil,” Emma calls after him.

Liam looks down at her. “You ready to go?”

“Candy?”

“Candy,” he nods.

“Let’s _go_ , daddy,” she says, grabbing his arm, suddenly in a hurry.

“One second,” Liam tells her, reaching for his phone on the coffee table, and then the little pumpkin basket he’d bought for her to carry her candy in. The second the phone’s in his hand, though, it starts ringing. Emma gives him an impatient look but Liam holds up his finger, telling her to wait, and she sighs and flops onto the ground.

He doesn’t recognize the number, but he knows that it could be Louis, calling from work, or Harry’s phone, even. “Hello?” he asks after pressing talk.

“Hey,” says the person on the other end, and that is _not_ Louis. That’s-, “It’s Zayn.”

A part of him has a lot of questions, but he knows that Emma’s only a few minutes away from a fit if they don’t get going. “I really can’t talk,” Liam says into the phone. “We’re just about to head out, and-,”

“That’s why I’m calling,” Zayn says quickly. “I- um, I kind of have this costume to wear, and nowhere to wear it.”

Liam frowns in confusion. “I thought you were going to a party.”

“I was,” Zayn admits, “but that kind of fell through.”

Liam looks at Emma, who raises her eyebrows, as if asking him what could possibly be more important than going out to get candy. He knows that Zayn’s asking him something too, and he knows that, under normal circumstances, he would be quick to shoot him down. But Emma’s glaring at him now, and he just wants to get off the phone as fast as he can without offending Zayn.

“Do you want to come with us?” he asks, and then grimaces because _what is he even doing_?

“Sure,” Zayn answers immediately. “Do you want to-,”

“Meet at my building,” Liam finishes. He quickly rattles off his address. “But you’ve only got about fifteen minutes before Emma drags me down the street.”

“I’ll be there,” Zayn promises.

When he hangs up, Liam pockets his phone and turns to his daughter. “Do you remember the guy from the restaurant that we went to with Lou a while ago?” he asks, and she frowns at him, eyebrows scrunched up in thought. “The one with the drawings on his arms?”

She nods her head quickly at that. “I still want one.”

Liam chuckles. “Well, he wants to come with us tonight. Is that okay?”

“So we _can_ keep him?” Emma asks, eyes wide. And _that_ was the reason he'd decided he wasn’t going to try anything with Zayn.

“We’ll see,” he finds himself saying anyways, though he knows that the actual answer to that question is a big fat no. He can’t just say that to her, though, not without her getting all teary-eyed and pouty. “Come on, let’s wait downstairs.”

They only wait outside for about five minutes before he sees Zayn through the crowds of parents and children occupying the streets. He’s wearing his leather jacket, a t-shirt, and a pair of jeans.

“Zayn,” Liam says when he gets to them. “Thought you were looking for an excuse to wear your costume.”

Zayn looks sheepish for only a split second before saying, “I lied. My actual costume wasn’t exactly… appropriate.”

Liam snorts. “What was it?”

Zayn leans forward, close enough that Emma won’t be able to hear when he says, “Maybe I’ll show you sometime. In private.”

Liam can feel the heat rising to his cheeks, and he has no idea how to respond with that. Thankfully, Emma takes that moment to grab his hand and roughly tug him down the street, the only thing coming out of her mouth a constant stream of, “Candy! Candy!”

Liam gives Zayn an apologetic look as he jogs to catch up with them. “It’s her first year trick-or-treating,” Liam explains.

“Not a problem,” Zayn assures him. “She’s adorable.”

“She’s vicious,” Liam corrects.

Zayn’s hand brushes against his. “Nothing wrong with knowing what you want and having the determination to go after it,” he says, and Liam wonders if they’re still talking about Emma.

Liam wants to skip the first house, deeming the flashing lights and electronic screams a bit too much, but Emma insistently pulls him forward. Zayn waits on the sidewalk as they go up and knock on the door.

Emma barks at the woman who answers the door, who, instead of asking questions, smiles fondly at her. “And what are you supposed to be?” she asks.

“A dog princess,” Emma tells her. Liam hears Zayn’s chuckle from behind him.

The woman drops a mini Kit-Kat into Emma’s basket, and then hesitates before putting in an extra two candy bars with a wink at Liam.

“You just got hit on through candy bars,” Zayn informs him when they get back to the sidewalk.

“I did not,” Liam denies.

“What’s your name?” Emma asks Zayn, interrupting them.

“Zayn,” the man in question answers. They can both see Emma attempting to repeat it, her mouth forming the letters. “You can call me Zee, though.”

“Zee,” Emma tries, and then grins expectantly up at him.

“Perfect.”

Despite her desire to get as much candy as possible, Emma only makes it forty minutes before yawning loudly. “Carry me?”

Liam scoops her up in his arms. “Want to go home?”

She shakes her head, red hair flying into his face. “More candy. Please, daddy?”

Liam opens his mouth to protest, but Zayn says, “Come on, you can’t say no to that.”

Liam sighs. “A few more houses and then we’ll head back.”

“Zayn, too?”

Liam doesn’t need to look at Zayn to know that he’s got the same smile on his face that she does. “For a bit,” Liam allows.

When they get back to the apartment, Emma looks minutes away from passing out. He lets her have one chocolate - a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup that Liam unwraps and breaks in half before giving to her, because he’s heard about all the potential dangers of Halloween candy, and knows you’re supposed to check it first- and then he carries her to bed with little protest on her part.

“G’night, Zee,” she calls sleepily over his shoulder.

“Goodnight, Emma,” Zayn says right back, and Liam wonders if those two simple words should make him feel so warm inside, or if he’s just extremely pathetic.

Liam tucks Emma into bed and puts on Dora before kissing her head goodnight. When he gets back to the living room, Zayn’s lounging casually on the couch, as if he’s sat in that spot a hundred times.

“Do you want a drink?” Liam asks him, already heading into the kitchen to get one for himself.

“Sure,” he answers easily.

Liam hears his old couch creak and assumes Zayn’s spreading out more, until a pair of arms encircle him from behind while he’s leaning into the fridge to grab the bottle of Coke.

Zayn smells like cologne and a hint of cigarette smoke, and his breath is warm on Liam’s neck. Liam leans back into him on instinct.

“This okay?” Zayn asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Liam breathes, taking a step backwards so he can close the fridge. Zayn’s arms stay around him, and Liam _knows_ he shouldn’t be doing this. “I mean no. But yes. I just--,”

“Don’t sound very sure.” Zayn’s arms are suddenly gone, and Liam turns around to find Zayn’s expression painfully blank. “Sorry. I thought I was reading things differently.”

Liam runs a hand over his short hair. “You weren’t,” Liam tells him. “Not completely, at least. It’s just--,”

“No, it’s cool,” Zayn says, taking a step backwards. “Seriously, Liam, I shouldn’t have assumed you were into guys. I mean, shit, you’ve got a _kid_. Obviously you’re straight, I just assumed, because the double date with Louis and Harry, and--,”

“I’m into guys,” Liam says quickly. “Definitely into guys.”

Zayn’s mouth closes with a snap, and he gives Liam a wary look. “Just not this guy.”

“No, it’s not--,” Liam tilts his head to the ceiling and takes a shaky breath. “I like you. I do,” he says to the ceiling. “I just can’t.”

Liam feels a warm hand on his shoulder, and he looks back down at Zayn. Zayn looks horribly sorry, and Liam wants to wipe that look off his face, because he has _nothing_ to be sorry about. “It’s cool, Liam, honestly. I can take rejection.” His hand slips down Liam’s arm to fall back to his side before he steps away.

Liam lets him get all the way to the door before speaking. “I have a kid, Zayn.”

Zayn turns, frowning. “Yeah, I got that.”

“No, you _don’t_ ,” Liam tells him. “I can’t just hook-up with people. I can’t just-- do whatever this is. Because it’s not just my life. It’s hers, and I have to put her before everything, including guys with leather jackets and tattoos and--,”

“Is that what the problem is?” Zayn asks, and finally he looks more than just mildly disappointed. He looks angry. “The way I look? You think I’m not good enough?”

“No,” Liam says quickly, because that’s _not_ what he meant. “I don’t think that I’m-- that I’m okay enough to watch another person walk out of her life. So it’s best just to not let you walk into it at all.”

He can see the way Zayn’s jaw clenches as he chews over those words. “Okay,” Zayn says finally. “I get that.”

Liam leans back against the counter-- no, _sags_ again it. “Thank you,” he breaths, feeling like a weight has slipped off his shoulder. Or some of it, at least.

“See you ‘round, Liam,” Zayn says, before slipping out the door. Liam wonders how many times he’s going to hear that from him, or from every single person in his life that he decides he wants but can’t have.

 

\--

 

“I think you’re being ridiculous,” Louis informs him through a mouthful of chicken fried rice. “Seriously ridiculous.”

Liam shrugs and swallows his bite of broccoli before speaking, because unlike Louis, he isn’t a barbarian. “I’m being cautious.”

A strip of chicken hits Liam in the shoulder and he glares at Louis before pulling it off his shirt and putting it on the table. Emma is in front of the television, too caught up in watching _Grease_ to pay attention to his conversation with Louis.

“You could have at least fucked him,” Louis hisses under his breath.

Liam feels his cheeks grow hot but refuses to let Louis get anymore of a rise out of him. “Well, I didn’t. And it’s done. So there’s really no point to talk about it anymore.”

He expects Louis to roll his eyes, or snap something cuttingly bitchy, but he doesn’t. He just frowns softly at Liam and then puts a hand on Liam’s thigh. “You need to let yourself have a life too, you know.”

“I do have a life,” Liam protests. “And she’s sitting, like, five feet away from us.”

“ _Liam_.”

“ _Louis_.”

“Just hear me out, okay?” Louis asks, eyes pleading. Liam sighs and nods, just like Louis knew he would, because he _always_ relents when Louis gets like this. “Harry and I will baby-sit on Friday. I happen to know for a fact that Zayn’s free that night, because he was going to come out to the club with Harry and I. Instead, you’re going to stay in and have the fuck of your life, okay?”

“How do you know even know he wants to have sex with me?” Liam demands. Louis just raises his eyebrows knowingly. “Okay, fine, how do you know _I_ want to have sex with _him_?”

Louis snorts out a laugh that has him choking on his food. Liam slaps his back, a bit too hard to be helpful but, really, he deserves it. When Louis gets his breath back he says, “So you’ll do it? Just one night and one morning, and then I’ll bring Em back the next day?”

Liam bites his lip. He hasn’t let Em sleep anywhere without him in-- a really, really long time. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Louis, he just worried a lot. He had to. “I don’t know.”

“Come on, please Liam? This gives me an excuse to just hang out with Harry without us getting drunk or having sex. And I can see what he’s like with kids. It’s very important to know things like that about a person before getting in a relationship with them.”

Liam raises his eyebrows. “So now you _want_ a relationship outside of sex?”

“Maybe,” Louis admits. “I don’t know. I’m testing the waters. I can still get out if I decide not to, at this point.”

Liam takes a few moments to eat and think. When his plate is cleared, and he has no other excuse, he finally agrees. “Just one night. That’s it. Okay?”

Louis slaps him on the shoulder. “Great! I’ll lend you a bottle of lube.” Liam makes a choked noise, nose turning up in disgust. “I’m _kidding_ , Christ. Like I’d have enough to spare, with Harry’s libido.”

 

\--

 

Louis is the complete middle man in the whole thing, and Liam doesn’t even speak to Zayn before Friday. In fact, he’s really not convinced Zayn is even coming at all.

He lets Louis pick up Emma at about six, and she’s all restless excitement about having a sleepover at Louis’. Louis seems just as thrilled, honestly, and Liam feels a twinge of guilt, knowing that Louis would have taken her many times if Liam had just asked, and he probably thought that Liam hadn’t trusted him with her.

“Thank you, Lou,” Liam says sincerely, just before they leave.

“Anytime,” he says, and then covers Emma’s ears with his hands. “You better get laid for this, Liam, because I’m not.”

Liam just waves them off with a blush on his face. Before he can get back into his apartment, Niall is coming out of his, wearing just a pair of loose sweat pants, no shirt. He’s holding a large pan, and he gives Liam a hopeful look. “My stove’s fucked. Can I borrow yours?”

Liam looks down at his watch. Zayn is going to be there in twenty minutes, if Louis was right. “Uh, sure,” Liam says anyways, because he owes Niall for a lot.

“Thanks, man,” Niall says, following him into the apartment. “This is going to take a bit, is it okay if I stay?”

“Definitely,” Liam tells him.

“So Lou’s taking Em for the night?” Niall asks as he turns the dials on the stove.

Liam straightens the things on his coffee table. “Yeah. He’s giving me the night off.”

“And you’re just staying in?”

He picks up one of Emma’s toys and puts it away. “Yeah.”

“By yourself?”

“Not exactly,” Liam admits, and he feels Niall watching him. “Remember when I went on that sort-of-but-not-really double date with Louis, and Harry, and Harry’s friend? That friend is coming over.”

“’bout time,” Niall grumbles. “Good for you, mate.”

Liam grins in spite of himself and the sudden onslaught of nerves. “Hopefully it will be.”

A sudden knock on the door has Liam’s eyes widening. He straightens his shirt and gives Niall a panicked look, which Niall just laughs at and continues to stir whatever he’s cooking.

Liam sucks in a deep breath and heads to the door. “Hey,” Zayn says when he opens it. He’s holding a bag of takeaway and a bottle of wine. “This okay?”

Liam takes the wine and opens the door wide enough for him to come in. “Definitely okay. Um,” he looks back at Niall, who Zayn has just spotted. “This is Niall, my neighbour. His oven’s broken, so…”

“Hey,” Niall greets.

“Hi,” Zayn says, and Liam frowns, wondering if he’s imagining the slightly cold tone in Zayn’s voice.

“I’ll be out of here in, like, two minutes,” Niall says quickly, looking between Liam and Zayn. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Liam says quickly, before turning back to Zayn. “I’ll get us plates. You can wait on the couch?”

“Yeah,” Zayn agrees easily, slipping off his shoes.

Liam watches him as he heads to the couch, taking in the lack of leather jacket. He’s wearing a simple red sweater and dark jeans, and his hair isn’t as up as it usually is, but instead sticks around his head in a fluffy sort of way that Liam finds adorable and really hot, at the same time.

Liam grabs plates while Niall turns off the stove and steals a plate from Liam to put his cooked food on. “I’ll come get the pan tomorrow,” he tells Liam, heading for the door. “And just remember that the walls are kind of thin, so if you’re gonna be loud put on some music, yeah?”

Liam can’t look at Zayn while the door shuts behind Niall, so he just walks to it and locks it, hoping the blush is off his cheeks by the time he turns around.

“He cook in your apartment a lot?” Zayn asks, raising his eyebrows. “Shirtless.”

Liam frowns at him and brings the plates over to the couch. “No, that was the first time.”

“Oh,” Zayn nods and reaches into the bag he brought. “Cool.”

Liam takes in the tightness of his mouth, and the way he sort of roughly pulls the food out of the bags. “Are you jealous?”

Zayn looks up sharply. “I’m not jealous.”

Liam tries not to laugh, and fails. Zayn glares at him.

“He’s just my neighbour,” Liam assures him. “Well, no, that’d be a lie. He’s one of my best mates. But he’s straight. Definitely, completely straight. You have nothing to worry about.”

“I wasn’t worrying,” Zayn says quietly, handing Liam a carton of pasta. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I just got my favourites.”

“This smells great,” Liam tells him. It does, like tomatoes and spices.

“Wine?”

“I don’t--,” he goes to say that he doesn’t drink, but that’s because he always has to worry about going home to his daughter. He doesn’t have to worry about that tonight. “Yeah, okay.”

Zayn stands up. “Glasses are in what cupboard?”

Liam stands up, too. “You don’t have to. You’re a guest.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and puts a hand on Liam’s shoulder, pushing down gently. “Let me take care of you tonight, yeah?”

Liam sinks back down onto the couch. “Okay.”

He watches Zayn bustle around his kitchen, pulling open cupboards to find the cups. He tugs the lid off the wine bottle - thankfully not one of the corked ones, because Liam doesn’t have a corkscrew- and then fills their glasses.

It’s been a long time since Liam’s had a drink, and the alcohol is warm and fizzy in his mouth. He doesn’t really like the taste much, but he figures that anything that might calm him down a bit is a good idea, so he takes another large sip.

They eat and watch a movie - _The Dark Knight_ , because it’s one of Liam’s favourites- while talking a bit. Zayn asks him about school, and why he wanted to be a fireman. Liam admits that it’s always been his plan, since he was seven and there was a fire at his parents house.

“Want another glass?” Zayn asks, holding up the bottle. He’s already poured himself a second one.

“You trying to get me drunk?” Liam teases, but he holds out his glass as Zayn pours.

“Trying to get you to relax, maybe,” Zayn admits. He puts the bottle on the table. “You sure you wanted to do this? Louis didn’t push you into it?”

“No, no,” Liam denies instantly. “I wanted to do this.”

“You’ve had your shoulders hunched the whole night,” Zayn points out. “And you keep looking at me and then looking away.”

Liam takes a sip of his drink and then puts his cup on the table. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m just-- I’m not used to this. I’m not exactly sure what to do here. The last time I went on a date-- it was a long time ago, and it didn’t exactly go well.”

Zayn chuckles and puts his glass beside Liam’s, and then shifts on the couch so one of his legs is tucked underneath himself with his body twisted so that he’s facing Liam. “Turn around,” Zayn orders. Liam frowns at him but Zayn raises his eyebrows and repeats, “Turn around.”

Liam gives in, turning so that his back is facing Zayn. Zayn’s hands are firm but gentle on his back. Liam’s had a professional massage, and he knows that it kind of hurts when you really work out the kinks, but Zayn’s not trying to work them out. He’s just gently kneading Liam’s shoulder, and then sliding his fingers down Liam’s spine. Liam shivers.

“Relax,” Zayn says quietly. “Come on, Liam. You’re fine.”

“Right,” Liam nods, and tries, he really does. He leans back into Zayn’s touch, but he knows that he’s still tensed, still holding back a bit.

“Liam,” Zayn says, and his breath is on Liam’s neck now, and his fingers are finding the bottom of Liam’s shirt. “Can I take this off?”

“Yeah,” Liam says, closing his eyes. He lifts his arms when the shirt comes up and he doesn’t see what Zayn does with it, but he assumes it’s somewhere on the floor now.

Zayn’s hands are impossibly warm against his skin, and Liam can’t remember the last time someone’s touched him without material between them. A long, long time, he knows. Zayn’s fingers are a bit rough, too, with calluses that somehow only make his touch that much better.

His fingers ghost over Liam’s ribs, and then reach around to slide over his stomach. He feels Zayn trace the indentations of his abs, and then his hands slide up and his nails scratch against Liam’s nipples. Liam makes a surprised sound, but Zayn just leans forward so that he’s blanketing Liam’s back with his body.

“We’re going to miss the whole movie,” Zayn warns, teeth grazing Liam’s neck.

“I’ve already seen it,” Liam replies, voice barely a whisper. He doesn’t know why, since no one is here to hear them, but he feels like he _should_ be whispering.

They haven’t even kissed yet - not that Liam has any doubts that they will- but he’s already hard, straining against his jeans. When Zayn’s lips, soft and just a bit wet, press to the spot below his ear, Liam groans. “You can turn around again, if you want,” Zayn says against his skin.

Liam nods and hopes the problem in his jeans isn’t too obvious when he faces Zayn again. But Zayn doesn’t really notice much, apparently, because the second they’re face to face, Zayn’s lips are on his, and he pushing Liam back against the couch.

Liam might be bigger than Zayn, physically, but Zayn moves with confidence and authority, and Liam lets him guide the kiss and their bodies. When Zayn’s tongue gently prods at the seam of his mouth, Liam parts his lips and let’s Zayn’s tongue brush against his, gently at first and then more insistently as Liam moans into his mouth.

Liam isn’t exactly experienced. He’s been with only one other man, and that had been awkward and uncomfortable. This, though, this is perfect, and there’s something that just feels right about the way Zayn’s body fits over his, the way his weight pushes down on Liam.

When Zayn moves his hips downwards, showing Liam that he’s just as into this, Liam knows he’s a goner. Knows that no amount of worrying or stress or trying to be cautious is going to be able to stop this, because he wants it. He wants it so bad, and Zayn apparently does, too.

“Bedroom,” Liam says against Zayn’s lips. “Yeah?”

Zayn scrambles off him so quickly that Liam can’t hold back the giggle that bubbles up inside him.

“Shut up,” Zayn says, cheeks flushed. “I’ve been wanting this for months, and I’ve been dying while waiting for you to catch up.”

Liam’s eyes drop to his crotch, where Zayn is very obviously sporting an erection, and he swallows. “I’ve caught up.”

Zayn offers him a hand up, and Liam takes it. Zayn tugs him into his arms and kisses him slowly, all the while backing him towards the bedrooms. “Which one?” he questions, barely separating their lips.

“Left,” Liam answers.

Liam learns firsthand how good Zayn is at multitasking, because he keeps up the kiss all the way through the bedroom door, and by the time he falls back onto Liam’s bed -- pulling Liam on top of him while he does--, he’s got Liam’s jeans undone.

Liam kneels with his legs on both sides of Zayn’s body and fumbles with Zayn’s pants, fingers slipping over the buttons until Zayn puts a hand on his wrist, stopping him, and then undoes it himself. Liam should be embarrassed by that, but he can’t find the emotion inside of him.

“Off,” Zayn orders, tugging on Liam’s jeans.

Liam nods and awkwardly leans over so that he can get them off, and then he’s straddling Zayn, nothing but his boxers and Zayn’s pants separating them. Except he wants Zayn’s pants off, too. And his shirt. And everything. Like, now.

“Come on,” Liam says, falling onto his side so he’s laying next to Zayn. He puts a hand on Zayn’s stomach, underneath his shirt. “Unfair. I’m almost naked and you’re fully dressed.”

“You’re impatient,” Zayn teases, but he sits up and pulls off his shirt, tossing it to the ground with Liam’s jeans. Liam’s too busy taking in each of his tattoos - so many of them, all of which Liam wants to test, see how permanent they really are, by attempting to get them off with his tongue- to pay attention to the way Zayn shucks off his socks, too, and then his jeans. And then his boxers, and suddenly Liam is seeing so much skin, all dark and smooth, and he’s a bit overwhelmed.

His eyes move from Zayn’s chest, downwards. He takes in the indentations of Zayn’s hips, and the curve of his thighs and the knobs of his knees. He takes in the wiry muscle that covers most of his body, and then finally he stops at where Zayn’s cock juts out of dark curls, long and hard and laying flat against his stomach.

“You can do more than look,” Zayn says easily, and Liam wonders how someone can be so comfortable being looked at with that much scrutiny while naked, but then again, Zayn is gorgeous, so he’s not got anything to be embarrassed about.

He wants to touch, he does, he’s just not sure where to start. He doesn’t want to seem like a fumbling virgin - which he’s _not_ -, but the way Zayn just lays there, so casual and calm, tells Liam that Zayn is a lot better at this than he is, and it makes his nerves worsen.

“Hey,” Zayn sits up suddenly, and he presses their foreheads together. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“I’m comfortable with a lot,” Liam tells him. “I’m just-,”

“Do I need to help you relax again?” Zayn asks, hands sliding down Liam’s back. They slip under the waistband of his boxers.

“Um,” Liam says, because it’s all he’s really capable of.

Zayn chuckles and guides Liam to lay down flat on his back. With a lift of Liam’s hips and a tug on the material from Zayn, Liam’s boxers are gone, too. The way Zayn’s eyes sweep over him, slow, unabashed, makes him squirm.

Zayn starts by kissing Liam again, this time chastely, closed mouthed, and then he moves to Liam’s jaw, nips at his birthmark, and moves down his chest, too. He takes extra time with Liam’s abs, tongue and teeth raking over them, lips sucking at the skin. Liam’s painfully hard by that point, anticipating what he knows is going to come, but just isn’t coming fast enough.

Zayn’s eyes are intensely trained on Liam’s when he finally wraps his hand around Liam’s cock. He holds Liam’s gaze for a long moment before lowering his mouth. Liam feels the warmth of his breath against him, and fuck, Liam wants more, but the way Zayn is teasing him is good, too, and so he just watches and waits.

Zayn’s mouth is warm and wet when he slides his lips over the head of Liam’s cock. Liam can’t look away from where those lips wrap around him, slick and obscene, and he tangles a hand in Zayn’s hair, fingers scraping gently but encouragingly against his scalp. Zayn hums his approval, and the sound Liam makes because of that is extremely undignified.

“If you keep making sounds like that,” Zayn says, pulling off him, “I’m gonna finish before you even get a hand on me.”

Liam’s head falls back against the bed because, really, he can’t just say that when Liam’s barely staying sane with the affects from his mouth. He doesn’t need Zayn’s words to wreck him, too. “Please,” Liam begs, eyes closed. “Just-,”

Zayn complies immediately, his lips enveloping him again. This time, he swirls his tongue around him, too, and Liam’s moan slips out without his consent. Zayn’s fingers dig into his thigh at the sound of that, but he just takes Liam farther into his mouth, until Liam’s hitting the back of his throat.

Zayn is way too good at what he’s doing, and Liam already feels his control slipping by the time Zayn’s hand moves from his thigh. When the tip of his finger ghosts over Liam’s entrance, he can’t help it; he keens and bucks up into Zayn’s mouth. Zayn was apparently looking for that reaction, because he pulls off Liam once again.

“Do you have anything?” he asks, looking up at Liam expectantly.

“Under- under the bed,” Liam tells him, unable to get up and grab it himself.

Zayn reaches under the bed and pulls out the plastic bag filled with the brand new bottle of lube and pack of condoms. He smirks, raising his eyebrows. “I can’t tell if you’re cocky or just carefully prepared.”

“The second one,” Liam says, a bit embarrassed. He realizes how it looks, but he didn’t expect Zayn to do anything. He just thought that, you know, in case things _did_ happen, it was best to have stuff. That, and Louis had grabbed Emma’s arm at the pharmacy to pull her towards the candy, while he pushed Liam pointedly in the direction of the condom aisle.

Zayn doesn’t ask if he’s okay again, probably because Liam is practically radiating vibes of _yes, please, now._ He’s got his legs spread, and he’s leaning up on his elbows like a freaking invitation, but he doesn’t care if he looks desperate because, well, he is.

There’s a moment of hesitation though, while Zayn’s popping the lid on the bottle and slicking up his fingers, while he’s not touching Liam at all. Liam’s mind races, questioning what the fuck he’s even doing. Hadn’t he just a week or so ago told Zayn he couldn’t do this? And now he was jumping into bed with him after the first date.

“I’ve got you,” Zayn says quietly, and Liam prays that he really does, because he’s completely fucked if not.

His fingers are back at Liam’s entrance, but this time they’re cooler, slick. Liam tenses a bit, waiting, but Zayn catches him off guard by swallowing the length of him again before pushing in. It’s been so long since anyone’s even touched him _close_ to there, and there’s the slight discomfort, but Zayn’s unsurprisingly good with his fingers, and by the time he worked in the second one, he’d found that bundle of nerves that made the slight stretch worth it, his fingers brushing against it exactly when Liam needed, sending sparks through him.

By the time Zayn’s pushes in a third finger, Liam’s hands are curling in the sheet. The only thing that’s stopped him from coming already was Zayn’s mouth pulling off him every few minutes, like he could tell when Liam was close and was keeping him just on the edge. It was horrible and wonderful and Liam is pretty sure that it was Zayn’s goal to ruin sex with anyone else for him, because he couldn’t see someone else being able to do this for him the way that Zayn was.

Zayn’s fingers slowly slip all the way out of him, and then Zayn looks up into Liam’s eyes with a question in his own. Liam just nods frantically because he feels like his skin is on fire and, as much as he’s enjoying this - fuck, he’s enjoying this-, he’s not sure how long he can handle anymore teasing touches and almost there orgasms.

Zayn smiles and leans up to kiss him once, reaching for the condom, but he stops and grabs a pillow to tucks under Liam’s head before putting the condom on. There’s a tenderness in him that Liam hadn’t noticed before, and it makes those voices in Liam’s mind, the ones that question everything, quiet down.

There’s pain, a bit, but Zayn is careful with him. He bends his head into the crook of Liam’s neck and whispers things that aren’t sweet at all, but somehow sound like they are anyways, the way they’re whispered slowly against his skin.

“You feel so good,” Zayn tells him. “Fuck, Liam, so good. Sprawled out under me, like you were made for this. And the sounds you make, the ones you try to hold back. Fuck, when was the last time you let someone touch you? I don’t want to ever stop touching you. God, I could fuck you forever, everywhere. The couch, the coffee table, bent over the counter, the floor. Fuck, Liam.” And then it’s just a litany of his name, repeated over and over, slowly, like he’s savouring the taste of it on his tongue.

Finally, when the stretch isn’t burning so much, Liam tugs gently on Zayn’s hair. “Come on,” he urges. “Zayn, come on.”

Zayn nods, hair tickling Liam’s neck. He pulls out slowly before pushing back in, and it’s easier this time, and the next time, until he’s moving faster, nails digging into Liam’s waist. Liam knows, in the back of his mind, that there will be bruises there tomorrow, and he doesn’t care. He wants them, wants to keep some mark of this, because part of him feels like it’s not real.

The sound of the bed frame hitting the wall fills the room- it was a cheap thing, picked up at a second-hand store-, coupled with the few moans that slip through Liam’s lips, and the occasional grunt from Zayn. He’s going to have to apologize to Niall tomorrow, but he doesn’t care, because Zayn’s hitting that spot inside of him just frequently enough to keep him crying out.

Their bodies are slick with sweat as they slide together, and Zayn’s eyes fall closed when Liam cards his hands through Zayn’s hair, knowing he’s tugging a bit hard but he can’t help it, can’t really control his fingers. “Zayn,” he lets out, fumbling to get a hand on himself because he needs to come, he needs to come so badly it’s almost painful.

Zayn’s eyes fly open and his lips are parted in a silent ‘o’ as he looks down at where Liam is fisting himself, trying to move his hand to the same rhythm that Zayn is using to pound into him. “Say it again,” Zayn tells him, putting a hand on the back of Liam’s knee.

“What?” Liam asks breathlessly.

“My name, Liam, s-say it again,” he orders.

He’s not even putting on an act, when he moans out Zayn’s name, he’s just not holding back anymore. It’s loud, and Zayn’s hips stutter in their movements and his fingers tighten their grip on Liam’s skin. Liam jerks himself quickly, knowing that Zayn’s close, and just as he feels Zayn tense above him, hears Zayn suck in a harsh breath, he comes over his fingers between their bodies to the feeling of Zayn pulsing inside him.

He’s only dimly aware of Zayn pulling out of him, mind too fogged by the after-orgasm bliss. He can’t move, just yet, not even to find something to clean himself off. He hasn’t had an orgasm like that in- ever, really. He definitely didn’t remember sex being that fucking good, because if he had he might not have argued with Louis’ and Niall’s arguments that sex is needed to function.

“Told you I had you,” Zayn says.

He’s sprawled out beside Liam, body facing the ceiling, head turned to meet Liam’s eyes. He’s got a cocky smile on his face, too, but Liam doesn’t pay attention to that. He pays attention to the shine on Zayn’s forehead from sweat, the way his hair sticks on end even more because Liam’s dragged his fingers through it. He focuses on the way Zayn’s eyes are heavily lidded, and his limbs are spread out, as if he’d just flopped down beside Liam and didn’t have the energy to rearrange them.

Zayn isn’t just attractive, with his smirks and his tattoos and those eyes. He’s beautiful.

“Yeah,” Liam agrees. “You definitely did.”

Zayn frowns at him and brushes a hand over Liam’s cheek. “Still do,” he promises, and leans forward to kiss Liam again.

Liam sits up quickly, causing Zayn to jerk back. “I need to clean myself up,” Liam explains, though that’s not really the reason he got up. It was a good excuse, though, one that Zayn doesn’t question.

Zayn sits up, too, already reaching for his boxers. Liam grabs his own, and his pants, for good measure, before ducking out of his bedroom and into the bathroom. He runs the water and retrieves the hand towel from under the sink before wetting it and cleaning himself off.

This wasn’t going to change things. It was perfect and wonderful and Liam wished it had, but he couldn’t just date Zayn. Zayn knew that, Liam had _told_ him. He shouldn’t have let this happen at all. He shouldn’t have let Louis talk him into it, and he probably should have kept it in his fucking pants, but he didn’t. And now he was going to have to go back out there and face Zayn, and… what? What was he supposed to do? Thank him for the sex and send him on his way?

Liam has no idea. This is why he can’t do casual sex. Liam can’t do casual anything.

He sighs and tosses the wet towel back under the sink. He’ll deal with that tomorrow. In fact, he’ll deal with it all tomorrow. That’s exactly what he’ll do.

Liam pulls on his boxers and decides to forgo the pants. He heads back into his bedroom to find Zayn sitting there, boxers on, too, and his own pants in his lap.

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted,” Zayn admits, frowning down at his pants. “I didn’t want to get dressed, in case you wanted me to stay, but I also didn’t want you to come back here ready to kick me out, wondering why I haven’t gotten out of your bed yet.”

“You can stay,” Liam tells him. “If you want.”

Zayn grins. “Yeah, sure.”

“It’s only ten, though,” Liam informs him, grinning sheepishly. “You sure you want to head to bed now?”

Zayn drops his pants on the floor and crawls up Liam’s bed. He crosses his arms behind his head. “I like to cuddle.”

Liam snorts. “Seriously?”

Zayn give shim an offended look. “What, I don’t look like a cuddler?”

“No,” Liam admits.

“Turn off the light, yeah?”

Liam complies, plunging the room into darkness with the flick of the switch. Thankfully he knows his room well enough that he doesn’t trip on the way over to the bed. He climbs in beside Zayn, and they both lay on top of the blankets.

Zayn is the first to move, rolling over to throw a leg over Liam’s. Liam wraps his arm around Zayn’s back, holding him close. It’s a bit hot in his room, and their chests are a bit sweaty where they touch, but he doesn’t care at all. For once he’s not falling asleep with a whole bed to himself. For once, there’s someone else’s breathing accompanying his own in the dark.

And he doesn’t feel completely alone.

 

\--

 

Liam wakes up alone. The faint smell of Zayn’s cologne lingers in the room, and the side of the bed he’d slept on was still a mess. That was the only indication that he’d been there, though. His clothes were gone, every article picked up off the floor.

Liam gets out of bed with a yawn and a stretch. His body aches in just the right ways, and he figures Zayn’s in the living room or something. Except every trace of him is gone from there, too. The dirty dishes from dinner, the wine bottle, the cartons from the takeaway. Gone.

And Zayn isn’t there.

Liam blinks in confusion but he’s not stupid. Zayn is gone. He’s fucked Liam, slept with him, too, and then ditched out in the morning without a note or a warning or anything.

He feels cold, as he heads to the bathroom to shower. He needs to shower. He needs to feel warm again.

The only thing that reminds him that he didn’t make up the whole night are the barely noticeable, but still there, bruises on his hips, shaped like fingerprints.

After he’s showered - long enough to use up all the hot water- Liam’s feeling better. In fact, he’s grateful that Zayn left. That was what he needed. It was his out. He couldn’t date Zayn, and now he had a reason not to. It was the best for everyone involved.

So why does he still feel like shit?

Liam busies himself with getting dressed, and then he cleans Niall’s pan and returns it to him. Niall’s whole face is a giant grin when he answers the door.

“Had fun last night?” he asks, and then continues before Liam can open his mouth. “You don’t need to answer that. Trust me, I know you did. _‘Zayn, Zayn, oh Zayn!’_ ”

Liam’s gut twists. “Yeah. Here’s your pan.”

Niall frowns at him. “What’s wrong? You’re missing that blissful ‘I just had sex’ glow.”

“Nothing,” Liam denies. “Just tired.”

“I bet,” Niall agrees, nodding lewdly.

Liam looks down at his watch and pretends to be surprised. “Louis and Em are going to be back soon,” he says quickly. “Sorry, I’ve got to clean up after last night.”

“Maybe get in a quick round before you send him on his way!” Niall calls after him. Liam shuts the door before he can tell Niall that Zayn had already went on his way, without saying goodbye.

Things with Louis are pretty much the same as they were with Niall. Louis makes as many carefully worded - for Emma’s benefit - comments as he can, waggling his eyebrows constantly. Eventually Liam just kicks him out, too tired to put up with it anymore, but for some reason unable to tell Louis that Zayn hadn’t left after some lovely, romantic breakfast that they cooked together in their underwear, but instead ducked out while Liam was asleep.

Still, he wasn’t mad at Zayn for the lack of warning. In fact, why had he expected any different? And would things have happened another way if the tables had been turned, and they’d met at Zayn’s place instead? Or would it have been Liam sneaking out in the middle of the night?

The thing is, he knows he wouldn’t have. Because as much as he thinks Zayn is a bad idea, last night made it pretty obvious that Liam isn’t capable of turning him away. In fact, Liam wants to keep him too, now, and that’s not really fair. He shouldn’t have let Zayn walk into his life, either, because maybe his daughter _would_ understand another person walking out on them, but Liam knows that _he_ can’t.

So they don’t talk again. Maybe it should have been Zayn to contact Liam, but Liam could have called or texted him, too. They both had each other’s numbers, but neither of them made the effort. And maybe that was for the best.

By the time Christmas hols comes up, and Liam’s got more free time because the lack of school, he barely even thinks of Zayn, except maybe when he crawls into bed and lays on top of the blankets, but he tries not to do that often because it always ends with him coming over his own fingers to the thought of Zayn fucking him and, really, he needs therapy or something. He’s pathetic.

Four days before Christmas, Louis bursts into his apartment. Near the holidays his outfits are even worse; he’s wearing a bright green sweater and red skinny jeans. That’s what Liam notices first. The second thing, though, is that his eyes match his pants.

“Louis,” Liam says instantly, going over to him. He doesn’t even hesitate before wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Lou?” Em calls softly from behind them. “Don’t be sad.”

Louis lets out a chocked sob into Liam’s shoulder and then lets him go so he can scoop Emma up into his arms. “Never sad when I’m with you, sweetie,” he tells her. He looks expectantly at Liam. “Which is why I’m wondering if I can spend Christmas Eve here, with you guys?”

Liam frowns at him. “Aren’t you going home?”

Louis doesn’t miss Christmas with his family. He knows that Louis’ schooling and ( extremely well) paid internship keep him from heading back home every week, but he _always_ goes back during the holidays. Any excuse to spoil his sisters and see his mum, Louis takes.

“Can’t,” Louis says offhandedly, spinning Em in a circle while trying to discreetly wipe his tears off with his shoulder. Louis doesn’t cry in front of people, he just doesn’t. “I have to be in the office for most of Christmas Eve, and then I have to be back the day after Christmas, too. It’s non-negotiable. If I don’t come in, I’m fired, and there goes my recommendations, my chances of a future. I have no choice, and I already checked flights. I can afford to fly out there, even just for the night, but, unfortunately, there’s not a single flight Christmas Eve or the day after heading into town, so…”

“That’s bullshit,” Liam says instantly. For once in their entire lives, it’s Louis who scolds _him_ for swearing. “Sorry, but Louis-- you can’t--,”

“I can, and I will,” Louis says fiercely. “I’ll make it up to them. I’ve already scheduled off the rest of the week after that. We’re just going to celebrate a little late, that’s all.” He puts Emma on the ground, and she wobbles a bit. “Get uncle Lou a drink, yeah?” he asks.

Emma nods and runs off to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” Liam tells him, putting an arm around Louis’ shoulder. He guides him to the couch and they both sit down. “This sucks.”

“Yeah, well.” Louis’ voice is higher pitched than normal, and he tilts his head towards the ceiling, as if willing away the threat of anymore tears. “I’m dealing. But I can come over after work on Christmas Eve? Crash on the couch? You know I’ve spoiled her.”

Liam nods. “Of course. When are you ever not welcome here?”

Louis hugs him again, so tight it hurts. He presses a kiss to Liam’s forehead. “I’d date you, you know,” Louis tells him. “If I could look at your penis without shuddering.” Liam makes a face at him. “What? You’re my best mate. It’s not that you have a deformed penis, it’s actually quite lovely, you’re very well endowed. I just--,” he does shudder then, for show. “Ew.”

“Luckily enough, I don’t actually _want_ to date,” Liam says, sounding more confident than he feels.

Emma returns, and Liam looks to the kitchen to check what took her so long, only to realize she’s got chocolate pudding around her mouth. She hands Louis’ his can of Cola innocently, smiling as if she’s gotten away with it.

“Was the pudding good?” Liam asks her, and she shrieks and runs to the bathroom. Liam just shakes his head fondly.

“Is that why you’re not asking Zayn on another date?” Louis asks, ignoring the whole thing. He’s giving Liam a calculating look, like he’s trying to find the loose screw in him.

“No,” Liam says hotly. Louis gives him a look. “Maybe. But at least I have an excuse for not calling him. What’s his for not calling me? Or for ducking out in the morning without so much as a _‘thanks for the fuck, Liam’_?”

Louis gapes at him. “He didn’t.”

Liam shrugs. “Yeah, he did.”

“Oh my _God_ ,” Louis shakes his head, his own problems momentarily forgotten. “What a prick. Why didn’t you tell me before? I’m telling Harry right now, just you wait. That curly haired giant is going to smack him until next Tuesday, I swear--,” Liam grabs Louis’ hand and stops him from pulling out his phone.

“Don’t,” Liam tells him. “Seriously, this is a good thing.”

“How is this a good thing?” Louis demands.

“Because…,” Liam tries to think of a way to word it so Louis understands. “It’s just-- the best for all of us. I can’t expect him to want to be with someone with a _kid_ , and I also can’t just throw myself out there, Louis. I can’t, okay? I can’t--,” Liam sucks in a breath. “I can’t be left alone again. It hurt too much the first time, and I’m not ready yet to risk that happening again.”

“Li,” Louis says slowly, tilting his head in a way that says he clearly pities Liam, but doesn’t want to say it, because Louis understands how much it pisses Liam off when people pity him. Louis is the same as him in that aspect. “Do you want me to fuck his best friend to get back at him?”

Liam snorts. “Still looking for excuses to have sex with Harry?”

“Yes,” Louis sighs, falling back against the couch. Emma comes of the bathroom with the chocolate off her face and guilty pout. Liam just opens his arms, indicating that she come sit with him. “Two nights ago I watched the last episode of Sherlock again and then convinced myself that it was okay to call him to come over for  _you know_ , because I was in a grieving period and it would be helpful.”

Liam laughs loudly and Emma joins in, not that she has any idea what they’re talking about. She just does that sometimes, laughs to feel included. Louis pinches her cheeks for it. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Yes,” Emma says seriously. “Your shirt is silly.”

Liam seconds that one.

 

\--

 

He shouldn’t have left it to last minute. Seriously, who leaves one of the most important presents you plan to get your child until _two days_ before Christmas? Someone who had to wait for their pay check to come in, that’s who. And someone who wasn’t sure they’d be able to afford it.

Liam worked at a diner. His pay check covered his rent, and his tips covered everything else. Sometimes that meant that Liam could take Em out every time Louis invited them, and other times it meant that they were eating hamburger helper three times a week. It all depended on tips.

Near Christmas, though, he couldn’t help it. He pushed aside the rent and prayed that his tips would make up for it, while blowing most of his check on presents. He’d already gotten Em clothes, and a few toys. And he’d splurged on a _real_ tree, not the shitty, short, lopsided plastic one they’d had last year. Emma had been delighted.

Liam tries not to spoil her, most of the time. Maybe he’s biased, but he’s pretty certain that he’s raised her well. He tries as hard as he can, and sometimes it’s excruciatingly difficult, but she’s a good kid. She’s polite and well behaved. Sure, she has her moments, the ones where Liam just wants to lock himself in the bathroom and cry because _how did he let his life get like this?_ And _why had he thought he could handle this?_ But he sucks it up and deals with it, and she apologizes and hugs him even though he’s taken away her toys for two days.

Christmas time, though, is when he’s _allowed_ to spoil her. With neither of her grandparents around, and Liam not having that many friends, or other close family members, he _has_ to spoil her to make up for it. He’ll be damned if his daughter ever feels like she’s missing out because it’s just the two of them. He’ll do anything to make up for it.

Louis’ the exact same way. He’s seen the blue child-sized toy car Louis bought. He thought it was way too expensive, but Louis just waved him off, ignoring his comment. Liam was kind of glad, because he knew Em would love it.

He wasn’t sure what Niall got, and he knew it wouldn’t be extravagant, like Lou’s gift, but that Em would love it just the same.

Liam’s big gift was the giant _Dora_ doll, the one that was just as tall as Em and cost eighty quid which, on its own, maybe, wasn’t that expensive, but coupled with everything else was a bit out of his price range. Except he’d gotten a huge tip that night, and he’d already budgeted everything. He could afford it.

The store was packed and Liam literally had to run to get the doll, only beating the woman with the child glued to her arm because he darted across the store the second she made a beeline for it. It was the last one, and he had worked his ass off to make the money to get it.

He borrowed Lou’s car to go to the store, while Louis stayed at the apartment to watch Emma. As he’s pulling up in front of his building, his phone vibrates in his pocket. Liam pulls it out quickly, ready to run up the stairs as fast as he can if something’s wrong with Emma.

It’s not Louis, calling to inform him that Emma’s fallen out of the window or something equally horrible that has his race picking up just from _thinking_. No, it’s Zayn, which has his race picking up too, for different reasons. One of them being the fact that he’s upset with Zayn, now. The other being because he can’t stop connecting Zayn’s voice now to the one he’d used to whisper in Liam’s ear that night.

“Hey,” he says easily, as if they’re two people who talk on a regular basis. They’re not. “How’re you doing, Liam?’

Liam snorts and tugs the keys out of the ignition. He’s leaving the doll in the car, letting Louis take it home with him until Christmas Eve. That way Emma doesn’t figure out what it is.

“Just fine, thanks,” Liam says in a clipped tone.

“Cool, cool,” Zayn says, and Liam can tell that he’s retreated into himself a bit, no longer sounding bright and cheerful, but instead more cool and indifferent. He hated that Zayn could do that, flip a switch and turn himself off. “Hey, I, um, hope this isn’t crossing a line, but I- I mean, it wasn’t intentional, I was just out and I seen the box and something just made me buy it, but -,”

“Today, Zayn, please,” Liam says, clutching the phone tighter than necessary. He’s just sitting in the driver seat of Louis’ car, staring out the window, trying to find hatred inside of him for Zayn and failing.

“I got Emma a present,” Zayn explains. “And I was wondering if I could drop it off. With you, of course. You don’t even have to tell her it’s from me.”

Liam blinks. “You got her a gift.’

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal,” Zayn says carefully. “Like I said, I just saw it and figured she’d like it. It was cheap. Not a big deal,” he repeats.

“Um,” Liam swallows. Fuck, that’s not fair. That’s not fair, because Liam feels any animosity directed towards Zayn slipping away, but that doesn’t make him happy. It makes him hurt, because then he starts feeling that twisting in his gut, the one that says that Zayn wasn’t there when he woke up, that Zayn wouldn’t be there in a year, or two. That he’d just keep leaving Liam, because that’s what people _did_.

“So I can bring it by? I can swing over there in, like, ten minutes.”

Liam shakes his head no while saying, “Sure. I’ll be outside.”

He drums his fingers on the steering wheel while he waits, all the while silently question his entire fucking life. Why does he do stupid things? No, scratch that. Why does Zayn make him do stupid things without even meaning to? Fucking Zayn.

And now he’s thinking about fucking Zayn. Shit. No, he can’t do this. He’s just going to go upstairs and forget about the whole conversation, and maybe Zayn will take the hint that he’s not welcome and just walk away.

Except Zayn’s knocking on the window, and Liam turns to him, eyes wide. “Hi,” Liam squeaks, pushing open the car door, keys fisted tightly in his hands. “Um, I’d invite you in but-” you’d just leave again - “I have guests.”

“Oh,” Zayn looks disappointed, but the expression is gone so quickly Liam’s pretty sure it was just his wishful thinking that had him seeing it. “Right. Here,” he says, thrusting a bag at Liam.

Liam takes it, opening the bag. Inside is an unwrapped box, which Liam takes out and examines. “They’re body pens,” Zayn explains. “They’re meant for kids. They can colour on themselves, or anything, really, and it comes off with a bit of water. They’re non-toxic, so they’re completely safe. I just thought since, you know, she was interested in my tattoos and all.”

Liam looks at him, wondering why he feels like crying. Zayn’s got his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, and his hair is back in his normal quiff. He looks so good, and Liam wishes he didn’t.

“You’re encouraging the tattoo,” Liam makes himself joke. “When she comes home at thirteen with a real one, I’m blaming you.”

Zayn laughs for a moment before the sound cuts off abruptly. “Good luck getting a hold of me that far in the future.”

“Right,” Liam says quietly, because he is. Like Zayn would even be around next month, let alone so long from now. How is it that he’d managed to twist Liam’s light-hearted joke and then stab Liam in the chest with it? “I’ve got to go, actually. Thanks. I’m- I know she’ll love it.”

Zayn nods. “Sorry for not wrapping it. I’m shit at wrapping.”

“It’s fine,” Liam assures him. “Um, right. Bye.”

“See you ‘round, Liam,” Zayn says softly before turning around and heading down the street.

When he gets into his apartment he shoves the box into Louis’ hands with a quick, “Tell her it’s from Zayn. Or don’t. I don’t know,” before he ducks into the bathroom.

He hears Louis calling his name softly, but he’s doing it quietly enough that Liam can pretend not to hear it, giving him an out. Liam turn on the water and takes it.

A few moments later he splashes water on his face and leaves the bathroom. Emma’s arms are already coated in every colour the box provided. Louis’ face has been drawn on, too, and Liam can’t help but chuckle at the two of them.

“You want one too, daddy?” Emma asks, holding up the blue pen.

Liam grins and bends down to sit beside her on the floor “Sure.”

“I told her who they were from,” Louis admits. “That’s okay, right?”

Liam shrugs. “Yeah.”

There’s a question in Louis’ eyes, but there’s more inside Liam’s head. He can’t answer anything, so he just lets his daughter take his arm and colour on it.

It isn’t until she’s recapped the pen that he looks down and reads the shaky writing. “You match Zee,” she says happily, and he does. Though his was obviously written by a child, he can see the similarities between what his daughter drew on his arm and the ’ZAP’ tattoo on Zayn’s. Liam gets up and washes it off, ignoring the way Emma’s lips curl down and her eyes water.

“How about we give him a new one?” Louis says quickly, scrambling for the pens before she can cry. “Here, Liam, now!” Louis commands, and not a minute later Emma is back to smiling and giggling.

 

\--

 

Christmas Eve, Emma is all restless energy. Niall’s over, along with Lou -- who is still planning to crash on the couch. Niall has family, but they’re all in Ireland. Liam still hasn’t gotten the full story about that, but all he does know is that Niall and his family aren’t close, not even close enough for him to spend the holidays with them.

Emma stays up until eleven, far later than Liam ever lets her. By the time he gets her to bed, Louis and Niall are well on their way to getting drunk off a bottle of wine that Louis brought over.

Once he’s sure Emma’s asleep, he takes a glass from himself.

“I’m taking a picture of this,” Louis announces, pulling out his phone. “This is like seeing animals do people things. Liam Payne is _drinking_.”

Niall barks out a laugh, one that he doesn’t have to worry about Emma waking up because of, because he’d turned Dora up extra loud, just to be safe.

Liam swats Louis’ phone, but Louis pulls it out of the way at the last second and clicks the button, flash blinding Liam momentarily. “I hate you,” Liam tells him, blinking rapidly.

“Aw,” Louis pulls Liam in and kisses him sloppily on the cheek. “I happen to love you. Mm, and you too, Niall. You drunken little shit.”

“Same to you,” Niall slurs to Louis. “You sarcastic tit.”

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” Liam tells them both, and then attempts to fix that by taking a large sip of the wine. It’s sweater than the stuff Zayn had brought over.

“This isn’t so bad,” Louis decides, sighing as he leans back into the couch. “I mean, I still miss my family but-- I’m still spending Christmas with family, I guess. Just a different part of my family.”

There is a group hug; it’s awkward, but it’s also nice. Then there’s more alcohol, and Louis puts on a CD and starts dancing around the apartment while Niall shoves his face with popcorn and Liam continues to get steadily more drunk.

He can’t remember the last time he got _really_ , _actually_ drunk. By the time midnight comes around, though, he’s smashed. Everything’s a bit blurry, he’s singing along to Mariah Carey with Louis, and Niall is just watching them both like they’re insane.

Liam’s phone buzzes in his pocket halfway through the song, and Louis glares at him, telling him not to get it. He does anyways, pulling it quickly out of his pocket and pressing it to his ear as he heads to the bathroom.

“Hello?” he asks, slurring the ‘l’s.

“Hey,” Zayn answers, and Liam drops the phone. He scrambles to pick it up, and when he gets it back to his ear Zayn says, “Are you okay?”

“Mm, totally okay,” Liam replies while looking at himself in the mirror. His cheeks are red, but that’s from the alcohol. Definitely from the alcohol. “Are _you_ okay, Zayn? Didn’t you just see me, like, two days ago? Like, wow, what do I do to deserve the honour of your attention?”

“I-,” Zayn sucks in a breath. “I just called to say Merry Christmas, but you’re obviously wasted, so-,”

“I am,” Liam agrees. “Totally wasted.”

“And that’s… a good thing, yeah?” Zayn asks hesitantly.

He doesn’t know why he says it, but he can’t help it. There’s something warm inside him now, and it’s not just the alcohol. “Definitely a good thing,” Liam says brightly. “Niall’s here and we’re probably going to, you know, fuck, so…” he pulls the phone away from his ear and covers it with his hand and then pretends to be talking to Niall when he says, “Just a minute, babe, I’ll get him off the phone.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll let you go,” Zayn snaps when he puts the phone back to his ear. “Have a nice life, Liam.”

Liam notes that he didn’t tell Liam he’d seen him around this time.

When he steps into the living room, the CD is off and Louis and Niall are both looking at Liam. Louis’ got his lips pursed and a hand on his hip; Niall looks torn between blushing and laughing.

“Did you just tell Zayn that you’re going to fuck Niall?” Louis demands, raising his eyebrow.

“Sorry, mate, but I’m not, you know,” Niall waves his hand, and now he is blushing. “If I was, I’d totally go for you, though. Totally.”

Liam sighs. “I just wanted to make him jealous.”

Louis eyes him warily. “Is this your way of paying him back for everything?”

“Everything?” Niall repeats.

Louis blinks at him and then puts a hand on Niall’s head, ruffling his hair. “Our Liam was thoroughly fucked, and then thoroughly chucked. Or, what I mean is, he left before Liam woke up, and then didn’t talk to him for, like, weeks.”

“Thanks for putting it delicately,” Liam tells him. He sinks onto the couch beside Niall and steals Niall’s glass of wine. “I mean, it’s not like I really care. I don’t, I don’t care.”

Louis ruffles his hair next. “Course you don’t, babe,” Louis says, nodding. “Of course you don’t.”

 

\--

 

Liam wakes up at seven in the morning to two people jumping on his bed. One of those people was his four year old daughter; the other was his twenty-three year old best friend.

“Get _up_ ,” Louis orders. “There are presents to be opened. Why are you still asleep?”

Liam groans. His head is pounding and he feels like he’s just run a marathon. “Because I’m not insane.”

“Daddy,” Emma says, landing painfully hard on his arm. He’s going to kill Louis for teaching her to jump on the bed. “Up?”

Liam sighs and rolls out of bed. “I’m up,” he says. “You two go wake up Niall and I’ll make breakfast. And coffee.”

“Neil!” Emma shouts happily, already running out of the room. Before Louis or Liam can stop her, she’s pulling open the front door and escaping into the hallway.

Liam goes to run after her and give her trouble for that, but Louis puts a hand on his shoulder. “I got it,” he says.

Liam lets him handle it, knowing that he’d come off as the bad guy if he started Christmas morning off by berating her with reasons why she can’t just do that.

He heads for the coffeemaker first, knowing that if he even _attempts_ to fry eggs before he gets caffeine into his system, he’s going to throw up. Even the smell of the coffee isn’t that enticing, but he puts the pot on and waits.

Niall looks about as good as Liam feels, but he’s got a bright smile on his face and a wrapped present in his hands. “Couldn’t wrap yours,” Niall tells him, as he puts the present on the table. He comes over to Liam and pours himself the first cup of coffee, sucking it down like it’s the only thing keeping him alive or something.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Liam says quickly.

“Yes, he did,” Louis tells him, reaching for the coffee pot, too. “Tell him, Niall.”

“Baby-sitter for New Years,” Niall says happily. Liam’s face falls. “A reliable one, Liam. It’s Eleanor’s friend, Danielle. Trust me, this girl’s almost as much of a saint as you are.”

Liam looks to his daughter, who is trying to look patient as she sits and waits for them, but her leg is jiggling and Liam knows she’s maybe two, three minutes away from a fit that’ll make a hurricane look friendly.

“I don’t know,” Liam says slowly. “For one, New Years at a club isn’t exactly my thing. And I don’t like leaving her with strangers.”

“Liam,” Niall says, pouting at him. “Come on, man.”

“I’d drag you there myself but I’m not getting home until the day after,” Louis says, giving Niall an apologetic look. “You can try it, Niall, just grab him by the arm and tug really hard. Works for everyone else.”

Liam glares at Louis but Emma says, “Dad?” in a sad, quiet voice. “Presents?”

Liam nods. “Just let me get a coffee,” he says quickly, gesturing for Louis and Niall to go sit with her while he does so, just in case she decides that’s not good enough.

“You might want to make another pot,” Louis advises. “You’ve got a drunk phone call to apologize for later.”

Liam frowns at Louis, but Louis’ already heading towards the couch. He turns his questioning look to Niall, who just raises his hands defensively. It’s as he’s pouring his drink that he remembers the call, and what he’d said. Fuck, he does have a drunken phone call to apologize for.

The guilt slowly slips away as Emma opens her presents. She’s still smiling through the clothes - both from himself and a few pieces from Louis, who couldn’t resist-, but when she gets to the toys, her smile is positively radiant. She opens Niall’s gift first, finding inside a complete set of every _Dora the Explorer_ episode ever. Liam thanks him, but he knows that present is going to drive him crazy.

“Just a second,” Liam tells her, getting up to go to his room. He grabs the giant stuffed Dora doll and the car from Louis.

When she sees the car she shrieks and turns to Louis and wraps her arms around him. How the hell she knew it was from Louis, Liam has no idea.

“You’re welcome, baby girl,” Louis tells her. “Now open your dad’s present so we can see if I can fit my big bum in that thing.”

Emma giggles and grabs the stuffed toy from Liam. She rips the paper off, not having a care in the world for where it lands, and then she looks at the doll with wide eyes. “You got it?” she asks, turning to Liam. “The doll from the store?”  
  
Liam grins. “I knew you wanted it.”

Emma hugs him tighter than should be possible for someone so small, and then she kisses his cheek. “Thank you, daddy.”

Liam gently pushes her in the direction of the giant toy car. “I’d go try that out before Louis beats you to it.”

Emma gives Louis a serious look. “If you want to try it first, that’s okay.”

Louis laughs and messes up her hair. “Nah, I’ll try it after.”

After that, Liam starts breakfast while Niall cleans up the wrapping paper and Louis ducks into the bathroom to take a call. He doesn’t come out until Liam’s plating the food, and when he does, his eyes are wide and he looks like a ghost.

“He said-- he said he loves me,” Louis says softly. He turns to Liam. “Why would he do that? Why?”

Liam’s taken aback, but he tries to be calm here, because Louis obviously isn’t. “Um, because he loves you?”

“He doesn’t,” Louis hisses. “And he just ruined everything. All of it. Damn it.” He wipes at his cheeks. “This isn’t fair.”

Niall gives Liam a terrified look and waves a hand at Louis, whose tears are falling faster than he can wipe them away. It’s not the loud, sobbing cries that normal people have, it’s silent, like he’s trying really hard not to but the tears just fall anyways.

“Do something,” Niall says, panicking.

“I don’t know what to do!” Liam says, because Louis is just staring at the ceiling, steadily crying, and Emma’s honking the horn on her toy car, completely oblivious, and Christmas music is playing softly in the background. He is at a loss for words.

“Emma,” Niall says frantically, and she looks up at him. “Louis--,”

It’s sad, really, that a four year old reacts better to Louis’ tears than Niall or Liam could. She quietly gets out of her car and wraps her arms around Louis’ legs. “Don’t cry, uncle Lou. Do you want one of my presents?”

Louis blinks down at her and tries to smile. “That’s okay, Em.”

Emma looks so heartbroken at Louis’ tears, but then her eyes widen. “I know!” she says, and she runs into her room, only to appear a moment later with one of those stupid pens Zayn got her. She grabs Louis’ arm and draws a huge, wobbly heart on it. “There, now you can’t be sad because I love you.”

Louis lets out a watery laugh and sits on the floor in front of her and steals the pen. He draws a heart on her arm. “And I love you, too.”

“Can we have breakfast now?” Emma asks. “Giving Louis love makes me hungry.”

Liam nods, feeling tears in his own eyes, because, really, this - right here, everything in this moment- is all he needs. His daughter, his best friends. He needs to stop thinking of his life as this horrible thing that went wrong because, really, it didn’t.

 

\--

 

He doesn’t call and apologize to Zayn. The thing is -and he can admit it, too-, he’s a coward. He’s a coward, and he’s fine with that. He really is. If he has to be a coward to stop himself from getting hurt, that’s what he’s going to do.

When Louis leaves, Liam drives with him to the airport. Louis lets him borrow the car for the week, not that Liam needs it much. Just to get to and from work, since he’s taking a cab with Niall to the club.

He really, really doesn’t want to go, but Niall is insistent. He shouldn’t let him and Louis hang out anymore. Louis’ a bad influence on everyone. But the girl he got to baby-sit, Danielle, is sweet and, while Emma doesn’t instantly take to her - like she did with, say, Zayn-, Emma _likes_ her. Liam knows she’ll be fine until he gets home that night.

“We probably won’t head home together,” Niall admits on the car ride there. He’s already had a few shots of vodka at home (“It’s cheaper to get a bit drunk before you go out so then you spend less money on the overpriced drinks at the club,” Niall explained earlier) and Liam feels slightly less bad about ditching his daughter off to get drunk. Not that she’s even awake now, but still. He’s going to stumble in the door tonight, drunk, and what if she’s awake? And what if she asks what’s wrong with him? This is such a bad idea.

“You’ll be fine, Liam,” Niall says as they pull up out front of the club. The music is loud enough from the outside, and there’s a line-up at the door that looks like it’ll take about an hour to get through.

“Okay,” Liam says uncertainly as they get out of the car.

Instead of heading for the back of the line, Niall goes up to the bouncer and whispers something in his ear, and suddenly they’re waved into the club ahead of at least forty people.

“What did you do?” Liam shouts over the music.

Niall shrugs. “Connections, Liam, you need to get some.”

Niall leads him over to the bar, where the music is quieter but the crowds are just as bad. People are everywhere, sweaty, smelling too heavily of perfume or cologne, and pressing up against him. Liam definitely needs another drink, which Niall quickly provides. It’s blue and tastes like juice but burns the whole way down. Liam grimaces as he sips and Niall grins.

“I’m going to dance,” Niall tells him. “You okay here?”

Liam nods and leans against the bar while sipping his drink.

“Kiss someone at midnight,” Niall shouts over his shoulder. Liam waves his hand dismissively. He’s not planning on it.

He’s halfway through his drink and has actually had to deny two girls dances. He was surprised both times they approached him, and he felt guilty saying no but he just wasn’t into it. He didn’t dance, and if he did, he’d rather do it with someone he was interested in.

“Hey,” someone says, bumping his shoulder.

Liam looks up to meet a pair of green eyes. “Harry,” he says, surprised.

Harry’s got circles under his eyes, and he looks like he wants to ask Liam something important but he doesn’t.

“What’re you up to?” he does ask, but Liam knows that it’s not the only question he has. “Didn’t take this for your kind of thing.”

Liam shrugs. “It’s not, really,” he admits. “Niall kind of dragged me out.”

Harry purses his lips at that and he gives Liam a hard look. “I know it’s not my place, but you could have told him in a better way,” Harry says quietly. “I like you, Liam, I do, but you and Louis- you’re both really freaking good at hurting people.”

Liam gapes at him. “Harry-,”

Harry raises his hand, cutting him off. “No, it’s fine. He’s fine. He’ll get over it, eventually, but it wasn’t cool. He really liked you. Like, a lot, and-,”

“He’s the one who didn’t talk to me,” Liam says, eyes narrowing a bit.

Harry laughs. “He thought that’s what you _wanted_. You told him literally a week before that that you couldn’t date him because of your situation, and he understood that. And then you invited him over for a fuck, and he figured it’d be easier to duck out before we brought Emma home.”

It takes a minute for that to sink in, after the alcohol and the shock Liam feels at hearing the words. “But-- no,” Liam shakes his head. “No, he left and… no.”

“Yes,” Harry says firmly. “Trust me, I was there to pick up the pieces afterwards.”

Liam swallows, wondering if that guilty feeling inside him will ever go away. Zayn wasn’t ditching him off. He was doing what he thought Liam wanted. He was trying to be the good guy, and Liam just assumed he was a prick.

He doesn’t want to think about it anymore, though. No, he _can’t_ think about it, because if he does, he might do something stupid. Like call Zayn, and apologize and beg for a second chance, and he _can’t do that_. Right? He can’t.

“Louis’s just scared,” Liam finds himself saying. “Because of what you said.”

“I know,” Harry admits, sighing. “And I know I shouldn’t have said it.” He gives Liam a serious look. “I meant it, though. I did.”

Liam nods. “He knows that. Louis’ just- he’s really good at _not_ giving a shit about things, so good that he doesn’t really know how to handle actually caring about someone.”

Harry chuckles bitterly at that. “Yeah, I guess I got that before we even started -- whatever the fuck that all was. If you talk to him-,” Harry pauses and swallows. “Tell him I said I’m sorry, and I won’t bother him again.”

Liam goes to tell Harry that he can’t tell Louis that, that Louis will come around, because he will. Liam knows Louis better than anyone, and he knows that Louis’ feelings for Harry are there, buried under years of ice that he’d built up around himself. Harry’s walking away, though, and he gets lost in the crowd before Liam can stop him.

Liam sips down the last of his drink and puts the cup on the counter before moving into the throng of people, trying to spot Harry’s curly head over everyone else’s. The lights are too dim, though, and the music is too loud for him to call Harry’s name.

Liam’s in the middle of the crowd when the lights suddenly disappear all together. Everyone starts cheering then, and on the left wall a giant number 10 appears. Everyone screams out the countdown while Liam just stands and watches, waits, ready to go back and search for Harry again after the lights come back on.

A pair of arms wrap themselves around Liam’s waist. He goes to turn and politely tell whoever is on him to _get off,_ when a voice says in his ear, “Where’s your date?”

Liam tries to turn around and explain to Zayn that Niall is _not_ his date, but Zayn’s arms are like a vice around him, holding him in place. Every time Liam manages to turn himself, Zayn just follows the movement so that they’re still pressed together, Liam’s back to Zayn’s front, like a weird dance.

“How do you think he’d feel if I fucked you in the bathroom?” Zayn asks hotly, while everyone screams out the number three. “If I pushed you into a stall and sucked you off while you tried not to make too much noise?”

It’s so inappropriate and Liam’s cheeks are burning, even though he knows no one can hear what Zayn’s saying. His words are only for Liam. Unfortunately, the awkward situation in Liam’s pants doesn’t need to be _heard_ , and he’s pretty sure that if it weren’t so dark, everyone would be able to tell just how much Zayn affect him.

When everyone screams out 1, Zayn says into Liam’s ear, “Happy New Years, Liam.”

He lets go, then, and Liam turns to face him. Zayn’s smirking, but there’s something in his eyes that contrasts with the tilt of his lips. They’re hard and angry and hurt.

“You coming, Liam?” he asks, raising his eyebrows and extending his hand.

Liam looks down at it, then up into Zayn’s eyes one more time before linking his fingers with Zayn’s. Zayn tugs him through he crowd easily, knowing his way around the place much better than Liam does. A whole minute couldn’t have passed by the time they get to the bathroom.

Liam feels eyes on them, but Zayn completely ignores everyone as he pushes open the door to one of the stalls and kisses Liam roughly on the mouth while guiding him inside it. Liam is embarrassed, he doesn’t _do_ this kind of thing, but he doesn’t care enough to stop.

Zayn kicks the door closed but doesn’t stop to lock it. It could open at any moment but he doesn’t seem to care as he pushes Liam against the wall of the stall and moves his lips to Liam’s neck. He sucks at the skin, just beside his birthmark, trying - and most definitely succeeding- to making a mark of his own.

Liam’s fingers card through Zayn’s hair, encouraging him, as he says, “Niall’s not my date. N-not my date, I lied. I told- I told you he’s just my neighbour and I meant it. I was-,” Zayn bites at his collarbone painfully, but not enough for Liam to pull him off. “I was angry, okay? I was upset with you, and I wanted to make you jealous.”

“Succeeded,” Zayn tells him. He tugs at the buttons on Liam’s shirt, ripping one of them in the process. Liam watches it hit the ground with a sense of detached lost. He liked this shirt.

“Zayn,” Liam says, sliding a hand up his back. “Come on.”

“I’m _trying_ ,” Zayn growls in frustration. “Fucking buttons.”

“No, I mean-,” Liam gently pushes Zayn away from him. “Not here. I’m not fucking you in a bathroom.”

Zayn snorts. “Why not?”

“Because.”

“What do you want from me, Liam?” Zayn demands, pulling back so that they’re both leaning against opposite walls now. The stall is small, though, and there’s only inches between them, really. “I try to be gentle with you, try to make it mean something, and you freak the fuck out. And then I try to fuck you like it doesn’t matter, like you _want_ , and it’s still not good enough.”

“Zayn-,”

“You’re giving off some pretty fucking confusing signals here,” Zayn informs him, crossing his arms over his chest. For the first time Liam takes in what he’s wearing -sleeveless white shirt, showing off his tattoos as much as his arms, and a simple pair of jeans-, and can’t help but think that he looks perfect, even with the angry, hurt look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Liam says gently. He wants to put a hand on Zayn’s arm, but he knows Zayn wouldn’t want him to.

“So am I,” Zayn says quietly. He pushes away from the wall and moves past Liam, out of the stall. Liam follows him but Zayn doesn’t slow down enough for Liam to catch up with him. Just like with Harry, he loses Zayn in the crowd.

Liam has to carry Niall from the car to the apartment. He doesn’t bring Niall home, a bit too worried about his passed out friend to let him stay at home, and instead makes Niall a bed on the couch. Niall’s already paid Danielle, so he just thanks her and sends her on her way.

He checks on Emma, who’s still sound asleep, before heading to bed himself. He pulls out his phone before he falls onto the bed, though, and considers calling Zayn. In the end, he doesn’t.

 

\--

 

Louis makes up with Harry. He’s in such a brilliant mood after the visit home that he gets Harry to meet him at his apartment after he drops Liam off at home -since Liam had to bring him the car- and they apparently had “the most fantastic make-up sex.”

Liam thankfully has a distraction in the form of school again. In a year, he’ll take the fitness test, and then he’ll do the pre-service training and, if everything goes right, within three years he’ll have a real job as a fireman. He’ll have a better pay, and his hours will be shit-- he knows it will be hard with Emma, but they’ll make it work-- but he’ll finally be able to get a house for them. He’ll be able to get a car, and they’ll start living the life he wants for them.

That’s the thought that gets him through the droning classes, and the shifts at work. He’s just killing time until his life really starts, that’s how he looks at it.

“So,” Louis says on Saturday after coming over with two large coffees. “I have a proposition for you.”

Liam raises his eyebrows, already feeling wary. “If this involves Zayn-,”

Louis sighs loudly. “Liam, come on.”

“Louis, come on,” he shoots right back.

“I just think that you’re both being ridiculous, and Harry agrees with me.”

“It’s not like we’re a couple that broke up,” Liam points out.

“And I get that. But come on, Li, be honest. If it wasn’t for--,” he waves a hand “would you go for it?”

Liam nods, because he knows he would.

“So then come. We’re celebrating, and Harry said Zayn wouldn’t mind if you were there, which is Zayn for _please come Liam, you’re the apple of my eye, love me forever_.” Liam gives him an incredulous look. “Just come. You’re both far too reasonable and smart for this not to work. I honestly want to punch you both in the face.”

“I want to punch you in the face,” Liam mutters.

“That’d be such a good example for your daughter. I’m going to go make sure Niall can baby-sit. He owes me for patching up things between him and El.” He hugs Liam tightly. “See you there, babe, I’ll text you the address.”

He’s gone before Liam can tell him no again.

 

\--

 

Liam stares up at the building in front of him. He’s passed by it hundreds of times in his life, not giving it much thought. It’s too nice for him to ever even _considering_ moving into. It’s the place where rich people live. _Really_ rich people. He swallows thickly.

Liam has no idea what Harry does for a living, but he’s seen where Zayn works, and figures Harry must have a really freaking good job, for them to be able to afford living here.

There’s a freaking doorman and everything, and he lets Liam in after Liam tells him who he is, and where he’s going. Liam feels like a ball of nerves the entire ride up to the eleventh floor, and he sucks in a breath before knocking on the door, knowing that there’s a chance Zayn might not actually want him there.

Harry answers the door with a bright grin and hugs Liam. “Thanks,” he says quietly into Liam’s shoulder. “For what you said the other night. At the club.”

Liam pulls back. “No problem,” he says.

Harry nods. “Come in.”

Their apartment is beautiful. It’s surprisingly clean for two boys in their early twenties. The whole back wall is giant windows, uncovered and showing a view of the city. The furniture is all black and sleek, and Liam thinks of his shitty apartment and winces inwardly.

He can’t see Louis or Zayn, but Harry just leads him into the kitchen, which is all shiny appliances and granite countertops. He grabs them both a drink and Liam pops the can on his coke, taking a large gulp.

“This place is really nice,” Liam says conversationally.

Harry grins. “Right? You should have seen the shit place we were staying at before Zayn’s book got published. We lived with four other guys, and they were slobs. It was horrible. Though, between the two of us, it’s a bit much. I mean, I can’t even afford half the rent, but Zayn’s pretty pushy sometimes.”

Liam blinks at him, eyes wide. “His book?” he asks.

Harry frowns. “He didn’t tell you?” Liam shakes his head, and Harry hesitates before continuing. “He dropped out of Uni three years ago and started on his book. It was published last year, a best seller, like, everywhere.”

“But-,” Liam shakes his head. “He works at that restaurant, and-,”

Harry laughs loudly, clutching at his sides. “He does that because he’s bored,” Harry explains. “He’s a freak, right? I mean, who works for _fun_?”

Liam just stares at Harry, wondering how he can know literally _nothing_ about Zayn and still feel so much for him.

The front door opens and Louis’ voice proceeds his body into the kitchen. “Liam!” he says loudly. “You came!”

He ignores his best friend, instead choosing to fix Zayn with a hard look. “What are we celebrating?” he asks.

Zayn shrugs. “Book deal.”

“You didn’t tell me,” Liam says quietly, and Harry grabs Louis’ arm and drags him out of the kitchen, despite Louis twisting his head around to watch Zayn and Liam on the way out.

“You didn’t ask,” Zayn points out.

“Because I thought you worked at that restaurant!” Liam says loudly. “What was I supposed to think? How was I supposed to know you did that for _fun_?”

“Is it really that important?” Zayn asks, pulling bottles of wine out of the bags he and Louis had carried in with them.

“Yeah, it is,” Liam tells him. “Really important, actually. You’re a best selling writer, Zayn, that’s a big part of who you are, and you never told me.”

“Well you know now,” Zayn says, uncorking one of the bottles. He grabs a glass, not offering one for Liam, and pours himself a drink. “Not that there’s really any reason for you to care.”

“I care,” Liam says instantly. “You know I do.”

Zayn whirls. “Really? Because I don’t think I do, Liam.”

“You’re the one who left,” Liam says quietly. “And the thing is, I knew you would. I just figure it’d be later on. And then, you know, I thought it was a good thing. That you ducked out early, before we could get anywhere serious. But then you act like I’m the one who’s done something wrong. Like I’m the one who kicked you out, but I didn’t.”

“Come on, Liam,” Zayn says, rolling his eyes. “You kicked me out when you ducked into the bathroom that night and we both know it. I thought I was doing what you _wanted_ by leaving. Making things less complicated for you.”

“I just--,” Liam runs a hand over his hair. “Can we just start over?”

Zayn stares at him, an indefinable look in his eyes. “Start over.”

“Before we both fucked up.”

Zayn continues to just stares at him for a moment before extending his hand. Liam takes it, and they shake hands. Liam starts laughing at the ridiculousness of the whole situation, but then Zayn’s lips are on his, cutting off the sound. He pushes Liam back against the counter and Liam decides that he doesn’t ever want granite countertops, because they’re painfully hard.

“Zayn,” Liam says against his lips. “This is your idea of starting over?”

“Mhm,” Zayn murmurs. “Wanted you the second you walked into that stupid restaurant. You’ve got these shoulders, and eyes-- fuck.”

“Maybe we should--,”

“Should what?” Zayn demands, pulling back.

“Try going out on an actual date,” Liam says slowly. “Like normal people. This-,” he waves a hand at where Zayn’s body is still pressed flush against his, “didn’t exactly work in our favour last time.”

Zayn takes a step away from him and Liam wants to pull him back. He doesn’t, though.

“Okay,” Zayn says slowly. “But- all of us?”

Liam frowns. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I don’t- I don’t want her to assume things.”

“Look, Liam,” Zayn says, stepping back into the space in front of Liam he’d just evacuated. “I don’t do things halfway, you should know that about me. I jump into things, headfirst, and that’s it. And I want you to trust that I’m not just going to walk away without fair warning.”

“Fair warning,” Liam repeats.

Zayn nods. “You think you’re the only one freaked out here, Liam? You have a _kid_. That’s a lot of freaking pressure to put on someone.”

“I know, that’s why-,”

“But the thing is, I actually do really, really well under pressure,” Zayn informs him. “Tell her- tell her I’m just a friend, like Louis, if you have to.”

Liam’s still hesitant, but he can’t see any reason not to. And the fact that Zayn is trying to include Emma makes his hear hurt. How many guys had run away from his daughter? And then there’s Zayn, fighting for a chance to be involved with _both_ of them. And Emma adored Zayn, had since that night at the restaurant. And Zayn- he’s been nothing but great with her.

“Okay,” Liam nods. “I’d like that.”

Zayn grins and grabs Liam’s hand. “Now can we have pre-date sex?”

Liam snorts a laugh. “Pre-date sex? Is that even a thing?”

“It is now,” Zayn tells him, pulling him through the kitchen. “I’ve kind of been wanting this since that morning when I left and you were still asleep.”

“Next time you should stay, then,” Liam tells him.

Zayn gives Liam a serious look. “I will,” he promises, pausing right there in the living room, in front of Louis and Harry, who are obviously watching them. “You won’t wake up alone next time.”

“Aw,” Louis coos. Liam glares at him.

“Windex is under the sink,” Harry says, while Zayn tugs on Liam’s arm again.

Liam frowns back at him, but Louis’ got Harry’s attention again, and Liam _really_ doesn’t want to be a witness of that. “What d’you need Windex for?”

Zayn laughs and pushes open the door to his bedroom. Liam’s heart sinks. It’s bigger than his whole freaking apartment, and like in the living room, one whole wall is windows.

“Well, see,” Zayn pushes the door closed, affectively trapping Liam between him and the surface. “I’ve kind of got this fantasy,” he says slowly, fingers playing with the hem of Liam’s shirt, “where I fuck you up against the window.”

Liam blinks at him, and looks at the window, and _fuck_ he’s already hard. Zayn has an embarrassing affect on him.

“We could do that,” Liam says after swallowing thickly.

Any other conversation is lost as Zayn kisses him again, slowly, tongues tangling, hands fisting in clothes. By the time Zayn pulls him away from the door, backing towards the sprawling window, Zayn’s got his shirt off, and Liam’s is being tugged over his head. It’s unfortunate that they have to break the kiss to get it off, but Zayn’s lips are back on his instantly, and his shirt is thrown somewhere, abandoned.

Zayn turns them when they get to the window, making Liam face it while he stands behind him. Liam puts his hands on the glass to steady himself, and he takes a deep breath. It’s so far up, and, thankfully, they’re facing the back of the building, so there’s not really anything close to the building. He can see the rest of the city far off, but Liam figures no one will be able to see them.

Zayn’s hands slide over his skin, scratching against his ribs, ghosting over his spine. Liam closes his eyes and just lets Zayn touch and kiss him wherever he wants.

He has a thing for marks, Zayn, apparently. He sucks one into the spot where Liam’s neck meets his shoulder, and then another one low on his hip, one he has to get on his knees to make. He spins Liam around after that, still on his knees, and undoes Liam’s jeans with careful fingers. Liam’s going to be jealous of that for a long time, he knows, the way that Zayn seems so in control of himself while Liam is just a wreck.

The window is cold against his ass when Zayn pushes him against it, but Zayn is hot everywhere he touches, and the mix of temperatures has Liam shivering just as much as Zayn’s mouth sliding down his shaft does.

Zayn’s smirk is back in place by the time he pulls off Liam, who he’s turned into a mess, unable to do much more than tug on his hair and try to find purchase on the smooth, flat window. He straightens up and kisses Liam slowly. Liam doesn’t care that he can taste himself on Zayn’s tongue; he kisses back roughly, nipping at Zayn’s bottom lip.

“I’ve got to get- lube,” Zayn says distractedly, kissing Liam between each word. “I want you turned around with your hands against the glass when I get back, yeah?”

Liam nods because, fuck, he trusts Zayn to take care of him. Knows that he will.

He feels really exposed, turning around and putting his hands against the glass. He’s completely naked, and, yes, no one can see him, but still. Zayn can, and that’s enough to make Liam shiver while he waits.

Zayn returns moments later, and his jeans are gone now. Liam can feel all of him pressed against his back, skin blanketing skin. Without warning, he grinds his hips backwards. Zayn chuckles and nips at his earlobe.

“If I could,” Zayn tells him, hand sliding down to cup Liam’s ass. “I’d keep you like this forever.”

Liam presses back against him again. Zayn didn’t let him come, and he’s still painfully hard. “Come on,” he urges.

“One day,” Zayn says, opening the lid on the lube, “I’m going to make you beg for it.”

Liam’s looking forward to that, but right now he’s just grateful that Zayn sounds as desperate to get on with things as Liam feels.

Zayn isn’t wasting time with his fingers. He’s not teasing this time, or going slow. He’s working his fingers in fast, stretching Liam as much as he can as quick as he can, all the while pushing Liam harder against the glass and whispering in his ear.

He knows Lou and Harry are still in the living room, and he prays that these walls are more soundproof than his own are, because - and Liam knows this is a Zayn thing, he’s never been that vocal before- he’s not being exactly quiet, as Zayn grips his hips and pushes into him.

“You okay?” Zayn asks, sliding his hand over Liam’s stomach. His nails scratch at the sensitive skin there and Liam just wants him to move lower but he knows that Zayn won’t yet. How he knows this, when they’ve only hooked up once, he has no idea. He’s just pretty sure that Zayn likes to torture him in the best ways possible.

Liam nods and pushes his ass out a bit more, bending just a bit so that he angle is better. His hands are sweaty and they leave streaks on the window when they slide down a bit. He can see the foggy spot from his breath, and Zayn’s, too, from when Zayn had leaned close against him.

It’s erotic, really, the way Zayn pushes him forward, trapping him between the glass and his body. His cock is pressed against the cool glass, and it’s different from anything he’s ever had before, but he doesn’t think there’s a thing Zayn could tell him to do that he wouldn’t love, especially when Zayn tugs him back minutes later, panting hard in his arm, and wraps a hand around him.

Zayn’s thrust become less rhythmic as he focuses on fisting Liam while fucking into him. Liam turns his head, tries to capture Zayn’s lips with his own, but their slick mouths just slide off each other and Zayn ends up mouthing at his neck again.

“Fuck, Liam,” Zayn groans in his ear. “Don’t think- I’ll ever- get sick of hearing you cry out for me.”

Liam keens, not from the words but from the unexpected twist of his wrist that he does while jerking him. He feels warm all over, regardless of the fact that he’s naked and half pressed against a window from the waist up. His cheek is pressed against the glass now, too, because he can’t hold himself up properly anymore.

“Come on, Liam,” Zayn urges.

“Zayn,” Liam lets out, because he’s so close, if Zayn would just tighten his grip a _bit_ more. And saying his name gets him just that. Zayn’s fingers curl harder against him, and Zayn bites down on his shoulder while he hits that spot inside of Liam, and that’s it, that’s all Liam needed, and he’s coming over Zayn’s hand and a bit on the window.

Zayn doesn’t last long after that, but -from the sucked in breaths and the shaky exhales- Liam can tell that Zayn’s trying to drag it out as long as he can, pulling out of Liam almost completely before slamming back in. Liam’s fingers have slipped off the window completely, but Zayn’s got his hand curled around Liam’s front, holding him up and against his chest.

When Zayn comes, his fingers dig into Liam’s skin and his breathing halts for a long moment, until he lets it out with a shudder.

Zayn doesn’t bring them to the bed, but pulls the comforter off it and pulls Liam onto the floor beside him, where they both lay, limbs tangled together, touching in the weirdest spots, like a hand on a bicep, and an ankle against a thigh.

When Liam no longer feels like a piece of too cooked spaghetti, he looks at the window. “I see why you need the Windex now,” Liam says, and then they’re laughing, pressing their faces into the crooks of each other’s necks. Until, of course, Zayn licks over a mark he’s left on Liam’s skin, and Liam sighs against him.

Zayn pulls back and looks up at him with wide eyes. “Can I keep you?” he asks, and Liam smiles fondly at him and kisses him for it.

 

\--

 

“A picnic,” Liam says, frowning at the basket in Zayn’s hand. It looks so out of place, what with him wearing a lather jacket and combat boots. Zayn just grins and shrugs.

“Picnic!” Emma says loudly, running to the door. “Can I come?”

“Course,” Zayn says, bending down to be level with her. “Bringing your friend, too?”

Emma nods seriously. “Dora comes everywhere with me.”

“Seriously,” Liam adds. “She won’t leave the house without it. I’m starting to wonder it’s possessed.”

“Dora says she wants to come,” Emma tells Liam with a frown. “What’s posses?”

“Nothing,” Liam says, ruffling her hair. “Get your shoes on and grab Dora.”

Liam’s already ready, and Zayn waits in the doorway while she gets her shoes and doll. Liam takes that time to examine Zayn. There’s something completely different about him around Emma, and it’s not just the lack of ‘I want to rip your clothes off’ looks, either. His eyes are softer, and he’s got a smile on his face, not a smirk. Liam’s grateful that he gets to see both sides of him. Finds that he likes them both a lot.

Emma returns, struggling to hold the doll. It’s almost as big as she is, for God’s sake. He knew that doll was going to be trouble when he got it, he just knew.

“If you want,” Zayn offers, as Liam closes and locks the door behind them. “She can sit on the basket.”

Emma gives the picnic basket a wary look, and then whispers something in the dolls ear. After a moment she nods at Zayn and he tucks the doll carefully between the top of the basket and the handle. It’s huge and awkward and he looks really ridiculous. Liam wants to kiss him for it.

The park is only about fifteen minutes from their building. When they get there, Emma grabs Dora and tugs her off to the playground, while Zayn pulls a blanket from the basket. Liam just gapes at him.

“What?” Zayn asks, shifting on his feet, like he’s self-conscious.

Liam shakes his head. “What else you got in there?” he asks.

Zayn sits on the blanket and Liam sits beside him, both of them facing the playground, where they can see Emma pulling Dora down the slide. Zayn chuckles and opens the basket. “Sandwiches, juice, and cookies.”

Liam frowns at him. “You’re playing dirty,” he tells him.

Zayn looks mock offended. “What could you possibly mean, Liam?”

Liam rolls his eyes. “It’s not going to work.”

“What’s not going to work?”

“I’m not kissing you until I tell her,” Liam informs him, reaching into the basket to pull out a cookie. It’s perfect, obviously. Damn him. “And I’m not telling her just yet.”

Zayn shrugs. “Whenever you decide to.”

“You sound pretty confident that we’re going to get to that point,” Liam says, while straightening out a piece of the blanket.

Zayn bumps his shoulder into Liam’s. “’cause I am.”

Emma runs over to them a few moments later, while Liam’s trying to calm down the warm feeling inside himself. “Can you push us on the swing?” she asks. She doesn’t ask Liam, though.

“Sure,” Zayn says, pushing off the ground. Liam watches them go.

Zayn’s careful with her, holding Dora while he pushes her just enough that she doesn’t go too high. Liam grabs another cookie and smiles at them, wondering if this is going to become a thing. If it’s really going to be that easy to just slip Zayn into his life and keep him there. He prays that it is. He doesn’t want him to go now.

 

* * *

 

**Six Years Later**

“Wait a minute,” Zayn orders, putting a hand on Emma’s shoulder.

“I’m old enough to go in by myself,” Emma points out, hand on her hip. Zayn thinks she spends too much time with Louis and Harry. The two of them are a bad influence on her.

“Fine,” Zayn relents.

He can’t help it, she’s got Liam’s eyes, and she’s old enough now to know how to use them to her advantage. She opens the kennel and goes inside, petting the firedog. It’s not often that they visit Liam at work, but Liam’s worked a long shift in the past thirty hours and Zayn knows Liam’s going to want a ride home. Plus, Emma jumps on any chance to visit the dogs, which is special treatment just for her, because Zayn knows they’re not supposed to be treated like pets, but Liam’s boss allows it anyways. Emma wraps everyone around her finger.

“You okay here?” Zayn asks her.

“I’ll watch her,” John says, coming out of his office. “You go find your husband. She’s fine.”

“Thanks, John,” Emma says while petting Cara.

Zayn gives her one last look, just to be sure she’s fine -who knows, the dogs could be rabid, you can’t be sure- before heading farther into the building to find Liam. He finds him in the garage, and warmth pools in his stomach. He’s half in uniform, the baggy one-piece unzipped so that it hangs over his hips, and his white t-shirt leaves little to the imagination, except Zayn’s the only one who gets to touch the abs that it outlines, get to run his tongue and nails over them. Fuck, he looks like one of those ridiculous, sexy fireman costumes, and Zayn just wants to push him against the truck and fuck him senseless.

“Hey,” Liam calls out, tossing the rag he’d been using into the bucket. “You’re early.”

“Em wanted to see the dogs,” Zayn explains, putting his hands on Liam’s waist. “John’s watching her. She’s fine, as long as those dogs are dangerous. They’re not, right?”

Liam chuckles. “I swear you’re more worried most of the time than I am.”

“I can’t help that,” Zayn says, leaning into Liam’s arms. “I read _Cujo_ , you know.”

Liam runs a hand through his hair and Zayn sighs into it, wondering when it’s going to stop, wondering if it will stop, that impossible happiness every time Liam smiles at him, or touches him.

“We’re going to have to get her one, you know,” Liam says, scratching absently at Zayn’s scalp. “A dog, I mean.”

“As long as she doesn’t name it Dora,” Zayn says. He’s wanted a dog for some time now, but they’d only settled into the house a few months ago, and they’d both agreed that they wouldn’t get one while they still lived in the apartment.

“Shh,” Liam hisses. “Don’t bring that up. What if she comes in and hears you?”

“Liam,” Zayn says though a laugh. “You burnt that thing to a crisp three years ago.”

“Because it was _possessed_ , Zayn. I don’t want her asking questions, she’ll never forgive us,” Liam tells him.

“Are we going, or are you two going to just kiss for the next hour?” Emma asks from the doorway.

“The second one,” Liam says happily, kissing Zayn right on the lips.

“You guys are grosser than Uncle Lou and Uncle Harry,” she says, making a face at Zayn, who laughs at it over Liam’s shoulder.

On the drive home Zayn notes the way Liam’s eyes are heavy, and his hand is still on his shoulder, where he’d usually be rubbing circles against his skin. Emma’s excited at the prospect of going to pick out a puppy next week. They both knew it was inevitable, getting one.

By the time they get through the door -- and Emma’s run off next door to hang out with the neighbour’s daughter-- Liam’s a lot more alert. Zayn frowns at him and brushes his hand over Liam’s cheek.

“You looked about ready to pass out in the car,” Zayn says, confused.

Liam grins. “That’s because Emma wanted us to take her to Niall’s today, but I had other plans.”

Zayn catches the mischievous grin in Liam’s eyes. “And what are these plans?”

“Well, see,” Liam says, tugging him up the stairs. “I’ve got this really hot husband, and I want to see how hard I have to blow him before the fire goes out.”

Zayn twists the wedding band on his finger while groaning out, “You’re a cheesy fuck, you know that?”

Liam raises his eyebrows at him. “So you don’t want the blowjob?”

Zayn snorts and jogs the rest of the way to the room, tugging Liam along with him. “Like hell I don’t.”

The second they get to the room, Liam freezes, eyes wide. He takes a hesitant step towards the bed and then picks up the book laying on it. Liam flicks through the thin, colourful pages, eyes wide.

“When did you do this?” he demands.

Zayn shrugs. “It just came in today. It’s kind of a surprise.”

He knows Em’s a bit old for children’s books now, but he’d been working on it on and off between other projects for years now, and it’d only gotten finished a month ago. It won’t be a best seller, or on a shelf in every bookstore, like his other three books, but he doesn’t care. Plus, he figures he can give the second copy of it to Louis and Harry in month for when they finally bring home their son (it had taken them so long to finally decide to adopt, even though they’d been talking about it for years after watching Emma grow up).

“I love you,” Liam tells him, putting the book carefully on the side table. “Now come here so I can get your clothes off. I might just burn your whole wardrobe; I like you better naked.”

Zayn snorts. “For a firefighter, you’ve got an odd relationship with burning things.”

“Shut up,” Liam says, but he doesn’t need to because his lips make sure that Zayn has to.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not going to lie; this was just an excuse to write fluffy dad!Liam and a lot of top!Zayn. I'm not sorry.


End file.
